


Cobbelpot's Comfort  - the Penguin and the Spider Woman

by CobblepotsComfort



Series: The Cobblepot Chronicles - Even Monsters Need Love [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Dates, Banter, Character Death, Crimes & Criminals, Danger, Darkness, Declarations Of Love, Desire, Developing Relationship, Devotion, Drunk Oswald Cobblepot, Emotional Hurt, Empathy, Escort Service, F/M, Falling In Love, Female Anti-Hero, Forgiveness, Friends With Benefits, Friendship/Love, Gay Male Character, Grand Gesture, Guilt, Guilty Pleasures, Heartache, Heroes to Villains, Hugs, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jealousy, Killing, Loss of Innocence, Loss of Trust, Love, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, Major Character Injury, Male Homosexuality, Massage, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Violence, Motherhood, Murderers, Obsession, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, POV Oswald Cobblepot, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Romance, Protection, Protective Oswald Cobblepot, Psychosis, Punishment, Revenge, Secrets, Self-Reflection, Self-Sacrifice, Sexual Fantasy, Sexy, Shy Oswald Cobblepot, Taran Tula - Freeform, Tension, Terminal Illnesses, Threats of Violence, Trauma, True Love, Trust, Trust Issues, Ultimate Sacrifice, Understanding, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Lust, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-04-14 12:44:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 37
Words: 52,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14136291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobblepotsComfort/pseuds/CobblepotsComfort
Summary: Taran Tula is appointed as Oswald Cobblepot's secretary but she hides a dark secret.  She has been planted by the GCPD to spy on him.  However, she quickly falls in love with him and decides to defect to his side. He knows nothing of any of this and although she proves her loyalty time and time again and he develops a deep trust and affection for her she feels deeply guilty about her initial deception - especially as she loves him so much - even though her feelings aren't reciprocated.There are continuity errors that you may spot as you read through this.  I shall attempt to correct this soon.  I wrote most of the early chapters as stand alones.This story is now being edited.





	1. The Penguin Makes Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Notes  
> For Oswald Cobblepot lovers are like buses - he has nothing for years, and then three turn up in rapid succession....or even at the same time! Hopefully, unlike buses, they won't then run him down!
> 
> Cobblepot playlist/soundtrack.  
> My Name is Ruin - Gary Numan  
> The End of Things – Gary Numan  
> And It All Began With You – Gary Numan  
> How Can I Be Sure – Marc Almond  
> Something Bad on My Mind – Marc Almond  
> Bad Romance - Lady Gaga  
> Everybody Wants to Rule the World – Tears for Fears  
> Careless Whisper - George Michael  
> Broken Wings – Mister Mister  
> I Wanna Be Your Dog – The Stooges  
> True Colours – Cyndi Lauper  
> Crazy for You – Madonna  
> Spooky – Dusty Springfield  
> You Go to My Head – Marlene Dietrich  
> I Am the Law – Human League  
> Nightclubbing – Grace Jones  
> Rise – Public Image Limited  
> Beautiful – Christina Aguilera  
> I Can’t Make You Love Me – George Michael  
> Crazy in Love – Beyonce  
> Too Funky - George Michael  
> The First Time Ever I Saw your Face – Roberta Flack  
> Toccata in F Major - Charles-Marie Widor  
> You’re in Love with a Psycho - Kasabian  
> Regret - New Order  
> How Soon is Now? The Smiths  
> One Way or Another - Blondie  
> Master and Servant - Depeche Mode  
> The Only Way is Up - Yazz and the Plastic Population  
> You’re My World - Cilla Black  
> Super Freak - Rick James  
> Le Freak - CHIC  
> Stay With Me ‘Til Dawn - Judie Tzuke  
> Gravity - Diamond Pistols and Lydia  
> Wake Up for the Night - Alyx Ander  
> Whatever It Takes - Toby Romeo  
> Darkside - Ty Dolla Sign and Future, Kiiara  
> Waiting - We Are Fury feat. Olivia Lunny  
> Everything - Clips X Ahoy feat Ezgod, K’LA  
> Assassin - EBEN  
> Drain My Love - Kaerhart  
> Somebody to Love - Queen  
> Unfinished Sympathy - Massive Attack  
> Gold - Win and Woo feat Shaylen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taran Tula is appointed as Oswald Cobblepot's secretary but she hides a dark secret. She has been planted by the GCPD to spy on him. However, she quickly falls in love with him and decides to defect to his side. He knows nothing of any of this and although she proves her loyalty time and time again and he develops a deep trust and affection for her she feels deeply guilty about her initial deception - especially as she loves him so much - although she knows that her feelings will not be reciprocated.

 

Ozzy's Army - for loyal female soldiers of Oswald Cobblepot.   Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/groups/120373628678552/

 

**Ozzy makes plans.**

“I froze him.  It was the only way – it was me or him!”

Oswald’s eyes were clouded suddenly – just for a moment.  They had been bright and animated and full of mischief until then.

She knew he was bad.  Very, very bad.  And so cunning!  She looked from the frozen sculpture of his old ally and now nemesis, Mr Nygma – Edward  –and then back to his fascinated face.  He was obsessed and completely psychotic – that was clear.  It obviously didn’t pay to upset little Ozzy!

But how did he get that way?  Was he always like it, or was it years of abuse, followed by tortures she couldn’t even imagine in that Arkham place, that had driven him so far into madness and mayhem?  She had heard terrible things about that place.  If he had been unbalanced to start with, that place would surely have enhanced his capacity for crazy!

Had he always been abused?  When had he started to hit back?

He walked with a limp – dragging his deformed leg behind him, a cruel reminder of what punishment had been dished out to him for becoming an informant.  He had been kicked and beaten so brutally!  He had not deserved that.  But he had a bright brain behind those big blue eyes and he used it!  In that sense, he would never be beaten.

He could be sweet, mad and menacing, changing in the blink of an eye – or he could be all three at once.

He was complex, all right!  Life would not be dull around him.

So the next instant, that sweet smile was back again, and those sharp blue eyes were alight with manic excitement.

“Anyway – what were we discussing?  Ah yes” - he rubbed his hands together gleefully, and then put a friendly hand on her shoulder.  “I believe it’s our new master plan for getting me ultimate control of Gotham again – right,  Miss Tula?”  He chuckled fiendishly.

How she had persuaded a bright boy like him into accepting her into his little coven of criminals completely escaped her.  She was almost on the cusp of confessing to him so many times.  Telling him that in fact, she was a plant – and not the kind his friend Ivy loved so much!  But she knew that was dangerous – very, very dangerous - his sweetness would turn sour and he would smile at her and pretend to forgive her, but in the next breath, he would produce his knife and gut her like a fish.   Yes, he was unhinged.  Treacherous.  But a part of her, a part deep down that she was fighting so hard to keep down, made her want to PROTECT him.  That was such an insane feeling, but she couldn’t help it!

She was glad that the GCPD, and in particular Detective Gordon,  were not aware of her mixed feelings.  She would be taken off the case at once!  That would mean that she would never be able to see Oswald again.  And that would be absolutely unacceptable!

Oswald just wanted to survive and advance in a ruthless criminal environment.

The only avenue open to him was one filled with violence and death.  He couldn’t afford to be weak, or sentimental - she knew that.

But then again, neither could she.  She had to make sure he went to prison.  But she didn’t want him hurt.  She cursed herself that part of her wanted to put him away, and part of her wanted to give him a great big hug.  Damn him, she thought!  Why does he have to be so CUTE?  And small – and vulnerable-looking - like you could put him in your pocket….

“Yes, of course,” she replied simply, and followed willingly as he led her away to talk about yet another dastardly plan for taking over the city.  She wondered if this time, ultimately, it would work!


	2. The Real Monsters of Gotham - Part 1.  The Galavans.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is some time since Miss Taran Tula started work at Mr Oswald Cobblepot's empire and she has quickly defected to his side, having initially being sent there to spy on him. Oswald has started to confide in his Miss Tula and they are working late one night and he decides to tell her all about the horrible murder of his mother at the hands of Theo and Tabitha Galavan.

**The Real Monsters of Gotham -  Part 1**

 

**The Galavans.**

“I haven’t told you the whole story about what happened to my mother, have I?”

He sat by the fireplace, head bowed, nursing his glass of red wine in his hand, sounding far away and reflective.  He had had a few glasses of wine and was clearly feeling rather maudlin - and in the need to share his memories with her.

She sat opposite, warming her red wine in the very same way.  Flickering shadows from the flames of the fire made strange, bizarre shapes on his lovely lit face.

“No, you haven’t.  Please tell me!” She had heard about the whole sorry spectacle, and her heart had ached for him. But she needed him to share with her – she needed to hear it from his own lips.

It was a special time for them both – very intimate – and his recollections would be bound to be very traumatic, but she so wanted to be closer to him – and so to be of comfort.  And now….now that he seemed to have regained a deep trust in her, she might just be able to do that….

The Galavans.

Oswald had at first thought that they might be allies – but he had found out, very quickly, that this couldn’t be further from the truth.

“They wanted me to help destroy Gotham – to flatten it and rebuild it anew - but I said I wasn’t their man! I said to them (and I quote): “I am a builder, not a destroyer!” They also said they wanted me to do away with their rivals, basically mow them down to make the path clear for Galavan to stand for mayor, to which I said (and again I quote): “What you want is an assassin. Gotham is full of them.  You can find them in the phone book - under ‘A’”

“That was a very good and witty response, Mr Cobblepot!” Taran interjected.

“Yes – I thought so too!” he grinned, but then, in an instant, the smile was gone and his expression became dark again.

“However, Miss Tula – as you will suspect - they weren’t at all prepared to take no for an answer!”

She caught her breath. “My poor Oswald!” she thought. “I hate where this is going

already!”

He took a breath himself….then took a drink….and then continued.

“Anyway, in order to persuade me to be their little ‘puppet killer’, they then revealed to me their trump card.   It was my mother – she was there, her frightened face staring back at me from the monitor.  They had chained her up like a criminal in a cage and then filmed her in her pain and anguish on live stream.  So not only was she locked up, tethered, alone and frightened, but she was also remote from me – I couldn’t even speak to her, so she could hear my voice and I could tell her everything would be all right!”  He choked back a sob.

“Bastards!” interjected Taran, unable to help herself, the tears welling up in her eyes as she imagined the scene.

He jumped momentarily, losing his thread, and shot her a surprised look.

“Oh – erm, sorry….” she said.

“That is absolutely fine. As I told you before, Miss Tula – many times, as I recall – you have absolutely no reason to apologise to me!  And may I say – my sentiments exactly!”  He raised his glass to her and drank.  She mirrored his action, smiling with tacit understanding.

“So I did their bidding,” he continued,  “Although not before telling them that they would pay for what they were doing to my mother – but it wasn’t to end there!”

He paused again, and took another deep drink.

He didn’t share exactly what he had been forced to do, but she could only imagine….and she had heard whisperings.  He had done very violent things, but he had taken the blame for the impetus for these actions  when it was Galavan pulling the strings all along.  Galavan was cold….unfeeling….and sadistic.

“Go on, Oswald – I hear you,” she said softly to prompt and encourage him.

“Thank you.”  He swallowed and then cleared his throat.  “Anyway - I managed to find her, to break in to the secret location where she was being held.   Butch was with me, along with two other men.  He had helped - led me to where my mother was being kept captive.  I was so happy I had found her and so, of course, was she!

“I was about to try to free her, break the lock with my bolt-cutters, when the Galavans came and found me – tormented me by telling me that I could never open the cell door,  as only they had the key!  He opened his hand and showed it to me!   And she, his sister - Tabitha - the bitch (please excuse my language, Miss Tula!), was taunting me and my mother the whole time – and they had got to Butch, so that he was working against me, I had no-one to help me – I was totally alone! And they made me get on my knees and beg – and I begged them to kill me and not her, pleaded with all my heart!”

He had spoken in staccato breaths, his sweet little mouth working itself up into a frenzy.    When finally he stopped and took a breath, he nearly broke down.   Taran went to get up to go to him, her heart aching for him in his agony, but he held up his hand, pulling himself together, and signalled her to stop. “No, please, Taran – there is no need - stay where you are.”  

She sat back down again slowly. She so longed to hold him but had to respect his wishes….to obey him….at least for now.

“So,” he resumed, after knocking back another big gulp of wine, “I begged. I pleaded. On my knees, hands clasped in prayer!  And then – and then, they gave me hope!”  His breathing became quicker again, getting faster all the time….the stress in him was so tangible.  She yearned to comfort him, but the time was still not quite nigh.  When it was then he would let her know.

“They agreed to free her. Oh, Taran - the joy I felt when they went and released her and she ran to me, and I to her…and then to hold her again, to say everything was going to be all right….”  He was close to breaking down now, she could see that.  The happiness and the pain clearly fighting each other in his memory tore at her own heart….

“And then – her smile – it faded, it changed to bewilderment, and confusion, as if she wasn’t sure what was happening to her….and that bitch, Tabitha, had plunged a knife into her….stabbed her in the back….that cowardly….bitch!”

He slammed down his glass, smashing it into fragments, the wine splashing everywhere….and collapsed into angry, agonised sobs.

She dashed to his side, putting her arms around him and holding him tightly.  He didn’t push her away. His body shook violently as he gasped and wept in her arms.

“I let her down! “ he sobbed.  “It was all my fault.   My mother died because of me!”

“Oh, Oswald – darling – no – it wasn’t you  – it was them!  It was the Galavans!  The Galavans! They are the real monsters of Gotham!”


	3. The Real Monsters of Gotham - Part 1.5 - After the Deluge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After recounting the awful ordeal of his mother's brutal killing, Oswald breaks down and Taran comforts him

**The Real Monsters of Gotham - Part 1.5**

**After the Deluge.**

Oswald’s sobs quickly subsided.   He raised up his head, revealing his red, swollen eyes and salt-tear-stained face, and sniffling deeply.  She took his face in her hands and wiped his tears away.

“Oh my – that was quite a deluge, wasn’t it, Miss Tula?” He grinned sheepishly.  He was clearly highly embarrassed about his little breakdown.

She felt touched that he had felt able to show her his feelings.  She was also enchanted by his sweet, bashful little smile.

“Well, you clearly needed it,  Mr Cobblepot!”   She placed her hands on his shoulders.  She somehow resisted the overpowering urge to kiss him.

“Well – thank you for understanding, Miss Tula – but I am sorry to break down so like that. You know that I am not in the habit of giving in to my emotions in front of you.  I am not quite sure what came over me, to be honest with you!”  He smiled that tight-lipped smile of forced patience, as if remonstrating with himself.

“Mr Cobblepot,” she said.  “As you are  **so** often fond of pointing out to me, there is really no need to apologise!”   She squeezed his shoulders, stroked her hands down his arms, touched his fingers lightly and then reluctantly let him go.

“Ah – thank you!  But we will keep this ‘little display’ of mine….just between ourselves….right?”  He stood back, folded his arms and raised his eyebrow meaningfully.

She nodded.  “Of course  -  your secret is safe with me!”  She clasped her hands together tightly.

“As always – I know I can rely on you, Miss Tula!” He winked.  

That look, as usual, didn’t fail to make her go weak at the knees.

A thought suddenly occurred to her.   Oswald’s silk square was always kept folded neatly inside the breast pocket of his jacket, which he had hung up in his closet earlier that evening.  

He stood there sniffing deeply and touching the tip of his nose, clearly in need of a handkerchief but having no ready access to one.

She delved inside her sleeve and found a tissue.  She held it out to him with a smile.

“Here you are,” she said.

He remembered fondly that he had given his handkerchief to her after she had broken down in tears and confessed her undying love for him.  Poor Miss Tula.   He had not been able to give her the answer she wanted – and yet, here she remained.  He continued to have terrible trouble understanding her reasons for staying.   But he was grateful that her affection for and loyalty towards him seemed steadfast.

This generous gesture was typical of her behaviour towards him….she really couldn’t do enough to help and support him.  He often wondered if this was all too good to be true.

He smiled widely, his eyes sparkling with understanding and gratitude.  He bowed his head in thanks,  took the tissue and wiped at his nose.  He had an amusing  memory of her trying to return his handkerchief to him after blowing her nose on it – rather loudly, as he recalled.  He had told her that she was more than welcome to hold on to it!  

He had never thought to ask for it back after laundry day and wondered what, if anything, she had actually done with it?

Taran took a step forward and heard a crunching sound – and felt strange bumps underneath her shoe.  She had trodden on some of the broken fragments of Oswald’s wine glass, with its spilled blood-red contents.  She noticed also that his white shirt front was spattered with red wine splashes  - she would have to insist that he stripped that off, when she was feeling a little bolder.

“Oh - erm, I think I had better deal with this before  **someone** hurts themselves on it!” she said pointedly,  signalling to him to step back to avoid the danger of impalement.  

“Oh yes, of course!” he agreed, standing back and checking out the damage for himself.  

“Hmmm – I made quite a mess, didn’t I?”  he mused.  He bit  his finger thoughtfully.

“Well, I can deal with that, don’t worry.”

“Thank you Miss Tula – and I’m so-“

“Now now, Mr Cobblepot!” she interrupted swiftly.  “What did we say about the word ‘sorry’?”

“Well I was only going to say that I am sorry to waste such a beautiful piece of crystal and such a very fine burgundy!” He grinned and winked saucily.

“Oh, you!” she laughed.  “Honestly!”

She went off to find a dustpan and brush and some stain remover.  She was so used to cleaning up after him that it had become second nature to her.

Meanwhile, Oswald stood and further surveyed the carnage.  The floor was soaked in wine and covered in shards of shattered glass.

Blood and broken bones.  That’s what this reminded him of!  But he would not choose to share that dark thought with her.   There were some dealings that it might be best never to share with her!  Although she was aware of his criminal activities...she couldn’t avoid that now she had been involved with him so long….she didn’t judge him, and she didn’t pressure him to tell her exactly what he had been up to.  This suited him fine!

She was indeed a rarity - maybe even unique -  where this level of understanding and sympathy with him was concerned.  However,  he didn’t want her to know any gory details….at least, not yet.  But maybe, one day, she might be ready.   If that day ever came, he would know.


	4. The Real Monsters of Gotham Part 2 - Strange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Miss Tula works late with him at the mansion and then is invited to stay for drinks, Oswald reflects on what was done to him in Arkham and underestimates just how simpatico Miss Tula is....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack to this chapter - 'RISE' - Public Image Ltd
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yb7Li2Vs24Y

**The Real Monsters of Gotham  - Part 2.**

**_Strange_ **

They stole his spark

They took the dark

And killed his light 

And took his fight

They burnt his brain

And caused him pain

Until they said that he was sane

Then turned him out into the rain

And this is what they called ‘humane’

_ Ode to Oswald (dedicated to Arkham) - Carol Vivienne Brady _

‘They put a hot wire to my head

‘cause of the things I did and said

They made these feelings go away

A model citizen in every way.’

_ RISE – Public Image Limited _

“I said to them – ‘I am not a criminal.  I am just insane!’  Now, that was probably my first mistake!”

“Your first mistake?  And what was the second?”

Taran didn’t relish asking.   He had that clouded look in his eyes, verging on dark, despite the characteristic quirky little grin that he always used to understate and tone down the true implications of his words.  But he was in the mood to share again, to unburden.  And she would never refuse him that chance.  Because she loved him – unconditionally.  His pain and troubles were hers too – by default.   She hoped he knew that by now.

“The second error on my part, Miss Tula, my friend – was choosing to cover up for Jim Gordon!”

“You did?  How – and erm, why, did you do that?”

“Well – altruism, perhaps,” he ventured, tilting his head on one side as he mused on his answer.  “Or maybe – if I am more honest – which, as I tell you often, is what I always endeavour to be when talking to you – deep down, maybe I thought that if he got into the same trouble as me, and went to prison, he would be in no position to help me anymore!”  He chuckled maniacally and winked mischievously.

“Well  - I do see the logic in that, I suppose!” she concurred, enjoying the joyous sound of his husky, throaty laughter - and that cheeky wink.   She did wonder why he was laughing so hard, though.  Maybe it was a sign that what he was about to tell her was going to be very, very bad.

“And – what did you do to cover up for him, exactly?”

“Hmmmm,” he began thoughtfully,  “It was..kind of….well, all mixed up with the little matter of dealing with my ‘old friends’ ….the Galavans….”  He braced himself for her reaction.

“Bastards!” Taran interjected from between gritted teeth.  Then she realised what she had said.

“Oh – sorry Mr Cobblepot,  erm - I just can’t help myself!”

“No no - there is no need for apologies!” he reassured her with a wide feline smile, wagging his finger placatingly.  

_ He had known that was coming.  He was very touched that she felt so passionately about what that family had done to his. _

“I am in total agreement with your sentiment, of course,”  he continued.  “Anyway, Miss Tula – you will no doubt be pleased to learn that I exacted sweet revenge upon Theo Galavan – but not without some help from our ‘dear friend’ Jim Gordon!”

Taran had not been on the scene long enough to know the details of what had exactly happened with Theo Galavan.   She knew that he must be dead, but she had no idea how he had died - or been dispatched.  Now, her curiosity was piqued in the extreme!

“Ah.  You got your own back on him – and his sister - for murdering your mother?” she asked hopefully.

This was not the most fortunate thing she had ever said to him.  

“His sister Tabitha is still alive and well, Taran.”  Oswald’s voice was suddenly full of pain and his eyes went so dark as to be almost black as night.  She had hit a very raw nerve.

“Oh – I-I’m so sorry Oswald – that was insensitive…..”

“Insensitive? Why no - not at all!  You were not to know, were you?”  His eyes regained their bright blue brilliance, and his voice its more upbeat tone in an instant.  She inwardly sighed with relief.  “I shall await my time with Tabitha – you mark my words Miss Tula, she will not get away with it!  I shall hit her when – and where - she is least expecting me to!  And believe me – she will feel  **fully** the effects of my wrath - oh yes, she will!”    His eyes glinted with glee and he grinned demonically.

Taran nodded and smiled knowingly.  “I’m sure she will!”  

She had to admit to herself that the look in his eyes was particularly attractive right now.  The manic magic had returned, his eyes flashing like stunning blue death rays of revenge….

_ This excited her so much that she almost added, “And can I be there too?  Can I be of help?” but then thought better of it, stopping herself just in time.  She had felt the darkness inside her growing more and more the longer she spent time with her Mr Cobblepot.   She wondered if he realised that this was happening to her.  She also wondered how he would feel about that…. _

“Anyway, to cut a long story short as they say, Miss Tula – I got justice for my mother’s murder by taking revenge on Theo Galavan.  And I made sure that he suffered as much as possible for his treachery and cruelty!”  Oswald’s eyes were like blue flames of  fire as he mentally reflected on  what he had done to Galavan.  Taran didn’t ask what he had done and he didn’t offer to describe it – but his expression gave her more than a subtle clue.  Part of her didn’t want to know - but having heard about what the Galavans did to Gertrude, she thought that it was most probably what Galavan deserved.

_ To her way of thinking, anyone who took away love from her sweet Oswald, especially in such a horrible and heartless way, could never deserve any mercy.  She hoped that her deep love and  devotion would go at least some way towards filling the void that was now left in his damaged heart. _

“But then,” he continued,  “Jim Gordon, who had helped me, who was ‘on the scene’ with me as it were - and who was in the greatest agreement with my views about Galavan, pushed me aside and delivered the final ‘coup de grace’ – he shot him dead!”  

Taran gave a little gasp.  “Oh my God  - did he?!”  She was very shocked.  She had thought Jim Gordon straight as a die…. well, he had led her to believe that in the few dealings they had had, anyway….  

She made a careful mental note of this latest surprise revelation – it might just be useful to her at some point….

“Yes,” he said quietly.  Then he paused and swallowed hard before continuing.  “And then,  when they questioned me at the GCPD, I freely admitted what I had done, took pride and pleasure in telling them in fact, but when asked about Jim Gordon’s part in it all – I lied!  I said he had not done anything, in fact, it had been all my doing!”

“And he didn’t admit it either…?”

“Of course he didn’t!  He would have been finished!   Whereas I – Oswald Cobblepot, what had I to lose?  I had just lost my mother, had her die in my arms, my world had ended!”  He choked back a sob, his eyes suddenly filling up with tears.  But in the very next instant he pulled himself together again, breathing deeply.  He cleared his throat.

“Anyway - now, here’s the thing, Miss Tula – I am not sure if I should really share with you what happened to me next.  It was ‘no picnic’, as you might say!”  He smiled his nervous little tight-lipped smile of warning.

“Go on – please.  Unburden yourself!” she urged.

“Well, all right then - if you are sure,” he shrugged.  “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.  Anyway, because I had declared myself ‘insane,’  I was sent to our fine establishment, Arkham – for what the resident doctor there – Professor Strange,  **Hugo** Strange, his full name was - referred to as, erm, ‘rehabilitation.’”  He shuddered momentarily.  She experienced an involuntary shiver too.  She had heard so much about that place – none of it pleasant, and that was, she was sure, an understatement.  The people who were sent there – her beloved Oswald included –were considered to be ‘criminally insane’ and in need of treatment – of ‘rehabilitation’.  

But the ‘treatment’ that her darling Oswald had received, from the descriptions he gave to her, should not be given to any sentient being, no matter what they had done, as far as she was concerned - let alone him!  The physical torture dealt out to him had sounded little short of diabolical –and the mental torment he had been put through along with that must have been even worse, for he point blank refused to tell her anything about that.

They had first strapped him into a chair – as he had raged at them in defiance – but had placed a headset on him, with no explanation of what this was exactly going to do to him. This had, quite understandably, induced panic and terror in him.  Before that, they had put a piece of something wooden into his mouth, fitting tightly over his tongue.  After that all he remembered was hot, searing pain that he had never been subjected to before and which he would never, ever want to experience again – and yet they had subjected him to much more than once!  He had screamed in agony, and then, the pain had become so intense that he had been unable to cry out – even to take a breath!  He had found out what the piece of obstruction in his mouth had been for.

The hot pain had torn through his head, burning and searing his bright brain, his blue eyes on fire with the intense pain coursing through his body.    His screams and then his silent, agonised expression only served to entertain the deadly Miss Peabody – the ‘nurse’ – who watched, smiling, from her vantage point behind the screen.

Taran felt the bile rising in her throat and the tears pricking at her eyes as he described this to her.  In her imagination, she saw him squirm, heard his screams, felt his helplessness and torment.  

“Bastards!” she cried, with a sob.  “That is  **monstrous** ….just...  **inhumane** !”  She felt so sick with anger and sorrow.   She made a mental note to add Miss Peabody and Hugo Strange to the growing list of people to punish, should she ever be lucky enough to get the chance.  Her darkness rose within her and she fought desperately to keep it down.

Oswald glanced at her, and he saw how much his recollections had affected her.  His memories of what the headset had done to him always made  **him** feel sick,  but he had clearly underestimated her levels of empathy with him.  

The colour had all drained away from her face, and she looked as if she were about to pass out.   But what really struck him was the strong hint of intense, deadly anger within her eyes.  She looked murderous!  It kind of unnerved him - which was a surprise, as he was not easily shocked.  He had never seen that expression on her sweet, cherubic face before ….

He was definitely **not** going to give her any description of  the mind games - the mental torture they had played on him to complete his ‘conditioning’….which had been much, much worse….

And on reflection, he wasn’t in a tearing hurry to relive them himself either.

“Oh – Miss Tula – I did say that this should not be shared with you!”  he said ruefully,  his little mouth working itself up into a frenzy of regret.  “You look ill!”

“No, no, Oswald – please - I wanted you to tell me – it’s just that – my God, Oswald!!  What they did to you!  I  - I have no words!”  She heard the tremor in her voice, and the blood singing in her ears.  But she was fighting her emotions, she didn’t want to give in - she had to try to be strong!  She had to stay with him.  She had to….

She reached out and put down her wine glass.  Then the whistling sound in her ears got louder and she thought, “Oh no….”

“Well, no words are needed, Taran.  You have, as ever, been a perfect confidante, and I can only hope that my unburdening myself to you this way has not upset you….”

The next thing he saw was Miss Tula crumpling and falling to the floor in a dead faint….

“Oh  - Miss Tula – Taran!”   He hobbled over to her quickly, and struggled down on to his knees beside her prone body.

“Taran, Taran, can you hear me?”  he said frantically, taking her ashen face in his hands.  He felt unusually helpless, and he didn’t like that one bit.

He cursed himself for sharing so much unpleasantness with her.  She clearly wasn’t quite as tough as she had tried to make out.  He was used to dealing with hard, ruthless men - and women.  He wasn’t accustomed to having such a sensitive and kind soul to be gentle around - well, not since his mother was alive, anyway.  

_ Not that he meant to compare Taran to his beloved mother.   He had loved her dearly, but he had attempted to shield her from the truth….and had only succeeded in breaking both their hearts.   _

_ Taran was different…..not only did she understand him and accept him for who and what he really was without judging him, but she also seemed prepared to hear painful and gory details about his activities and experiences.   She was truly a willing listening ear….. an invaluable companion and confidante.  He really couldn’t think what he would do without her. _

To his relief she came round quickly, blinking with bewilderment and then cringing with embarrassment as she focussed on Oswald’s anxious, then relieved and smiling face. 

“Oh, good grief -  I passed out didn’t I? I’m such an idiot!”

“Yes, you did.  And no you’re not - in that order!”  He smirked at her.

“I’m sorry….”

“No, no apologies Miss Tula.  That is our rule to one another, as well you know.   Right, now.  Do you feel better?  Do you think you can stand up?”

“Yes of course.  Honestly! I really do feel ridiculous….”

He struggled to his feet and offered her his hand, which she took sheepishly, then he helped her to stand up.  He guided her to her chair and then handed her her wine glass.  “Here, drink this,” he commanded.

“Thank you.  I do feel like the biggest fool….what must you think of me, fainting away like that…..”

“Stop that right now Miss Tula.  It was my fault.  I went too far….”

“I made you tell me!”  she took a gulp of wine.  “Anyway, I wish I could have heard you out.”

“There is no need.  I had finished my anecdote.”

“But I  **want** to hear more, Oswald.  I want to be supportive!”

“You do support me, Taran - every day.  More than anyone else ever has!”

“I know, I do try my best.   But - I want to be much  **more** to you!  I want to prove my loyalty….”

“You  **have** proved your loyalty!”  He insisted, rolling his eyes.  “Many, many times!”

Taran tried to fight her urge to cry but his words and his expression of forced patience which she loved so much pushed her emotions to the limit.  Her tears fell swiftly. 

“I hate what they did to you so much!  I care for you and it hurts me when I know you have been hurt!  I can’t help that, Oswald!”

“Shhhh” he soothed, putting his arms around  her.  “I am all right now, remember!  If anything,  the experience made me stronger.   And anyway....you know I am notoriously difficult to destroy!”   He was still baffled as to why she should have so much depth of feeling for him….not that he was complaining.   

Taran sighed and slipped her arms inside his jacket and around his waist.  She felt the luxurious softness of the satin on his waistcoat.  She sighed again.  

She felt very warm and cosy within his embrace and his scent was comforting.  His cologne must have sandalwood and cedarwood in it  - the fragrance was lovely.  She didn’t know why people were so horrible about the way Oswald looked and smelled.  He was always so smartly dressed,  immaculate and well-groomed.  And he was beautiful - from his disco-vamped raven black hair all the way down to his smartly-shod feet.   She had told him that and he had been so bashful and incredulous….and this had endeared him to her even more, if that were at all possible.

She could stay in his arms like this all night, and it appeared that he was prepared to let her stay there too, but she also wanted to show her true strength of character and her willingness to give him solace.

So she pulled herself together as quickly as she could.  She pushed him away gently.  “I am fine now,” she smiled. “Really.”

“Good,” he said.  “But I think you will perhaps be needing this….” and he produced his pristine silk square from his breast pocket and offered it to her.  She thanked him warmly and took it gratefully.

“It seems that we are destined to continue swapping handkerchiefs, right?!” he smiled meaningfully, his shining eyes staring into hers, and addressing her with the soft, husky tone that he reserved especially for her.

“Yes – it does!” she laughed, feeling weak-kneed at the look he was giving her and the way he was speaking to her.  “Thank you Oswald!”  

She wiped her eyes and nose and this time remembered not to try to give his handkerchief back to him!  She would make sure to add it to her ever-growing collection of ‘Cobblepot keepsakes’.   She couldn’t help being sentimental.  She wondered if he would laugh if he ever found out about her little memory box.  She hoped not.

“So– what happened afterwards?” she resumed.   “They obviously released you at some point (thank goodness!)  Why did they do that?   And what happened to you after that?”

“Well – after their course of ‘treatments’, and some little chats with Professor Strange - or Hugo, as he insisted I call him at the end, as if we were ‘friends’ - I was certified as ‘sane’!”

“Sane?  Certified?  What did that mean, exactly?”

“Well – I did wonder myself, to start with,” he mused,  “But – well – apparently, this piece of paper they gave to me said that I could now be a normal member of society – no danger to anyone!”

“Normal?  No danger?” she echoed again, trying to take this in.

“Well – you see, Miss Tula – they had effectively - well, erm - tamed me, to use the vernacular!”  He smiled sardonically.

“‘Tamed’ – as in, made you helpless and defenceless?  ‘Tamed’ as in - they  **stole** your ‘ **spark’** ?”  she said bitterly, with a harsh laugh.

He gave her a look which told her that she had hit the nail right on the head.

“Yes – exactly!  That is exactly what they did!  Well done Miss Tula – you are very intuitive!”

“Oh - erm - thanks,”  she smiled bashfully.  “But – well, anyway, you clearly got your ‘spark’ back!” 

“Yes - indeed I did!”   He winked at her, his bright eye flashing, and he treated her to that gorgeous feline grin that she loved so much.  

“I’m glad you got it back,”  she said.

She was indeed pleased that he had not ultimately been deprived of his individuality – and his ability to protect himself, which would have been removed from him along with his aggressive and violent personality traits.  

She wondered what trigger had freed him from his ‘conditioning’.   He didn’t offer to share, but she was just glad that her sweet little psycho had not had his sharp wits, intelligence  or – even - his darkness permanently removed from him.  He would not have been whole, not been himself, and that would just not do!  

He did have a great capacity to love and be gentle - she knew that first hand - but by conditioning him in such a cruel way so that all traces of aggression and violent tendencies were removed, he would have been left disarmed, weak and vulnerable.  

As physical strength was not one of his assets,  he needed to employ his mental cunning to survive as well as advance himself in his brutal environment.    With this taken away, he would have possessed little of his clever, deductive reasoning or ability to safeguard  himself by thinking his way away from - or out of -  dangerous situations.     He would have been such an easy target for bullies and predators without his strong mental attributes to help him.  They would have hurt him - and he could even have been killed.  That did not bear thinking about!   

They had turned him into A Clockwork Orange….

“It is a shame that Jim Gordon didn’t manage to help you after you covered up for him like that!” she reflected suddenly.  This really should have occurred to her much earlier in their conversation.

“Hmmm,” he mused, “Good point, Miss Tula.  Well, now you come to mention it – as I recall, he  **did** have the chance to help me get away – he turned up to Arkham on another case – and we crossed paths briefly.  So of course, I was bound to point out to him - very forcefully, as I remember - that he did owe me a favour.  But that didn’t seem to impress him one iota, unfortunately!  He just told me that I needed the treatment and walked away.”

“What?!”  Taran couldn’t believe her ears.  “He left you to rot in that place – after what you did for him?!”

Oswald flinched.  “Now, now, steady on Miss Tula,” he giggled nervously.  “I don’t want you passing out on me again!”

“I shan’t.  I promise.  It’s just that….well, I just can’t believe he would turn his back on you!  I thought you and he were - well, friends!”

“Erm, well, effectively, I suppose – I’m afraid that he did abandon me - friends or not.”   Oswald shrugged casually, as if to say, “C’est la vie!”

“That’s appalling!” growled Taran.   She sat there seething, mentally adding Jim Gordon’s name  to her ‘little black book’.  

“Ah well - I wouldn’t get too upset about it.  I’m not any more.”   Oswald shrugged again and grinned impishly.   “Let it go.   Anyway - I don’t know about you, Miss Tula – but I suddenly feel a bit peckish.  Will you join me in a peanut butter sandwich?”


	5. Miss Tula Hits Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Tula decides to teach Jim Gordon a lesson for leaving her beloved Oswald in Arkham.

**Miss Tula Hits Back**

 

“Mr Cobblepot – please could I ask a favour of you?”

He looked askance at her.  “Well - that all depends on what it is!”  he teased playfully, and then in an instant he added, “Yes, yes of course you may!  What is it that I can do for you?” 

“Ah, thank you so much, Mr Cobblepot!  First of all – may I have a couple of hours off this afternoon, to conduct some personal business?  I shall of course make the time up later!”

“Yes, you may – and – incidentally – there is no need for you to make up the time.  You have worked above and beyond the call of duty so many times for me!” he said with genuine gratitude.

“Ah – thank you!” she smiled appreciatively, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, as she always did when he said such lovely things to her.  “Secondly - may I please borrow those exquisite leather gloves of yours – the ones that you had on when you interviewed me – to take on my outing?  I do want to look my best for this – erm - important undertaking….”

“Oh!  Yes, those gloves  **are** very stylish, aren’t they?” he beamed.   “I usually ‘trot them out’, so to speak, on especially significant occasions!  Well, of course you may borrow them if you wish – but, well, will they not be – erm, rather too big for your tiny little hands?”  He looked pointedly at her hands as he said this and smiled sweetly. She blushed.

“Well, yes, I suppose so – but I am sure they will suit the purpose I have for them very well!”

“Hmmm - that is very cryptic of you, Miss Tula!” he mused, tilting his head to one side and studying her curiously.  “May I ask exactly what use you have in store for them?”

“Well, if you don’t mind, I would rather not tell you just yet – but I promise I will reveal all when my business is concluded!”

“Oh my!  Now you  **have** piqued my curiosity!”  He hobbled up close to her, folded his arms, smiled his thin-lipped smile and stared down sternly into her eyes.

“Now – Miss Tula – you are not going to do anything – ill-advised or impetuous, are you?”  His tone was severe but she could detect a hint of mischief in there. His big blue eyes got bigger and brighter, clearly reflecting his extreme excitement at the thought of possible misdeeds she might commit.

“Of course not!” she replied innocently, looking away coyly.  She felt herself blush again. He was so close to her – and that look of his just made her go weak!

“Hmmm,” he said, “Well, as you have promised to be good you may borrow my best gloves for the occasion  - erm, whatever that may be! But – please be careful with them, Miss Tula. They  **are** my best pair, after all!”

“I will, I promise,” she said.  She hoped that she could keep her promise – then again, needs must when the devil drives….

“I have come to see Jim Gordon.”

Harvey looked across and saw her standing there, all dressed up, prissy and prim and proper.  She was clutching an expensive-looking pair of black leather gloves in her hands. 

He never could quite figure her out!  They knew that she had not been playing ball over Cobblepot.  It was clear that her loyalties didn’t lie with the GPD – he wondered if they ever really had!  He racked his brains over what motivated her apparent devotion to – and infatuation with - the Penguin, of all people!  She sure was a weirdo – of that, he was sure!

But to announce, so loudly and publicly, that she wanted to see Jim like this?  It just didn’t make any sense!

He smelt trouble!

“Can  **I** help you?” Harvey said, walking up to her quickly.

“Ah – Sgt Bullock!”  She smiled a forced, thin-lipped smile.  She knew that if it had been up to Harvey Bullock, Oswald would be dead – would have been shot in the head by Jim Gordon, a long time ago.  She tried to feel forgiving, as he had been helpful later on, but she still had a hard spot for him….and this was now serving almost to confuse her motives, for she knew also that Jim Gordon had refused to kill Oswald – had just pretended to fire the gun into his head and pushed him down into the water, with a harshly-whispered instruction to leave Gotham for good….she was so thankful that he had decided against despatching her beautiful Oswald!

But no - she must focus on the task in hand….and feeling the rich leather of Oswald’s gorgeous gloves in between her fingers helped centre her mind….

“Well – maybe you  **can** help me!” she resumed, smiling more pleasantly.  “Can you please tell me if Detective Gordon is available?  I wish to speak with him on a rather urgent matter.”

“Oh?  And can I ask what it is you want to talk to him about?” Harvey scratched the back of his head thoughtfully, tilting his hat forward slightly as he did so.  

“He is just so rude!”  Taran thought to herself.  “Does he never bother to remove his hat when he is indoors?  And even when he speaks to a lady?! Oswald would never show such disrespect!”

“I would rather not disclose that,” she said aloud, with a touch of indignation.  “It is of a personal and private nature. Please may I speak with him?”

Harvey took a moment to assess the situation.  She clearly couldn’t be carrying a gun – or a knife – within that tiny purse, or in those small pockets on her jacket.  She also couldn’t possibly pose a physical threat to Jim. She was such a petite little thing – easy to overpower, if she ever tried to attack a man, of that he was certain.

“OK – I’ll go and see if I can find him,” he said.

“Thank you!” she smiled with forced gratitude.  “I shall be waiting right here for him!”

 

“Did she say what she wanted?”

“No – but I don’t think it can be anything too serious.  No concealed weapons!” Harvey laughed harshly.

“I see.”  Jim stood there for a moment mulling over the situation.  Maybe she had changed her mind about working for the GCPD? he thought.  Stranger things had happened in this city!

“Right, Harvey.  Show her in! We’ll see what she has to say.”

Author’s note: “Oh yes, you will see, all right!!”

“Thank you for seeing me, Detective Gordon.”

“Please, Taran, you know me – just call me Jim!”

“This is official business.  I shall call you Detective Gordon.  And  **you** can call  **me** Miss Tula!” she asserted strongly.

“Official business?”  (“Ah,” Jim thought. “Maybe I was right about her wanting to co-operate after all!  Maybe she has come to her senses at last!”)

“Yes, indeed!   **Very** official!”  And she smiled at him sweetly.

“And what business would that be?  Oh sorry, by the way - would you like to sit down – erm - Miss Tula?”

“No thank you – Detective Gordon.  What I have to convey would best be done standing up, I think!”

“Oh?”  Jim was puzzled. “How so?”

She lowered her voice to a whisper.  “You had better come closer, Detective Gordon.  Walls could have ears, after all! I need to tell you something of great importance!”

“Eh?”  (“She really has lost the plot now!” he thought. “Totally paranoid!”  But he decided to humour her. What harm could it do? The information she had might actually **be** very important, after all.)

“Well, ok then.”  And he walked round from behind his desk and went and stood right in front of her.

Her sweet, cherubic face stared up at him and she smiled genially again.

Then her smile faded.  The light in her eyes went out.

The next thing Jim Gordon was aware of was the lashing sting of leather smacking him right across the eyes – very hard - not once, but twice.

“Jesus!” he recoiled, stumbling backwards and nearly crashing into his desk.  “What the hell was that for?”

She came forwards at him, taking advantage of his dazed condition.  “Oh that? That was for nothing!  **This** is for Oswald!”  And she lunged forward like a springing panther, dealing him a smart blow on the nose with her bare fist.

She stood over him as he sat dizzily on the floor, nose all bloodied, and still reeling from these surprise violent attacks.  Then she read him the riot act.

“How could you leave him to rot in that place?!  In  **Arkham** !!  That hell hole!!  When he was so good about protecting you….do you have  **any idea** what monstrous things they did to him in there?!” she seethed, breathing hard.

“No, I….”

“No – and you never asked – you didn’t care! Well – in future, if you consider abandoning your friend like that, or letting him down in any way - just remember – you will have me – Taran Tula – to deal with!”

She stooped and picked up Oswald’s gloves from the floor, where she had dropped them when she had landed her punch on Gordon.  She kissed them emphatically. “Feel the glove, Gordon!” she grinned.

Then she turned and left, making a final, insolent gesture with the gloves as she went.

As she was leaving Gordon’s office she passed a concerned-looking Harvey Bullock, who frowned at her quizzically.  “It’s ok, Sgt Bullock – don’t worry, I haven’t killed him – at least, not yet!” And then, she laughed and walked away out of the dingy building and into the bright, warm afternoon Gotham sunshine.

  
  
  



	6. Miss Tula Updates Mr Cobblepot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taran/Miss Tula tells Oswald all about her exploits at the GCPD and receives her reward

**Miss Tula updates Mr Cobblepot.**

“Well well, Miss Tula – what’s this that you are telling me?  You had a genuine, full-on psychotic episode? And I didn’t get  **you** anything!”  He leant his chin on his hand, sitting there at the head of the table in his high-backed chair - his face full of fascination and mischief.   He sounded amazed about her exploits – but in a very pleased and admiring way.....

She had shared it all with him from beginning to end, sitting beside him in her own chair on his right hand side.  He had listened with great interest, his eyes getting wider and brighter by the second. 

He had laughed with appreciation when she had told him about her use of his gloves.

“Well, that was a very creative touch, Miss Tula!  I must add ‘Use of imagination and resourcefulness’  to my ever-growing list of ‘newly-discovered talents’ on your resume!”  he grinned, chuckling huskily.

“You said not to damage the gloves,” she explained quickly.  “So I didn’t wear them to punch him. I used my bare fist instead!”

“Goodness me – considerate too!”  He smiled impishly. “I do hope that you didn’t hurt your hand when you did it!  Our friend Gordon is rather –erm, hard-headed, as I recall.”

“No, my hand is fine – thank you!”   she smiled. “Anyway - here are your gloves – none the worse for their adventures!”  She handed them back to him ceremoniously. “Thank you for letting me borrow them. You can check them for blemishes if you like.”

“No need, I am sure.”  He took the gloves from her and turned them over in his hands distractedly.  “Well – all in all, a very good afternoon’s work!” He sighed contentedly. “And you didn’t even take up the full 2 hours that you asked me for!”

“Well – it didn’t take as long as I’d expected in the end.”

“Quick and clean, eh?”  He winked. “Always the best way!  Still – listen - Taran,” and he stopped smiling, and his eyes went that slightly darker shade - which told her to take him very, very seriously.  Also when he called her ‘Taran’ and not ‘Miss Tula’ she knew he had ceased being playful.

“Yes?”  She swallowed hard.  She held his gaze for as long as she could.  In fact, she couldn’t stop looking at him even if she wanted to.  His eyes always had a hypnotic quality! Whether they were glistening with gladness or softening through sadness – they were always beautifully bewitching.   And even at times like this, when they became darker, harder – they had a mad, fiendish beauty that made her heart miss a beat!

“You won’t do anything –drastic to Jim Gordon, now will you?  You know how useful he can be to me! And – well, we are kind of - friends – most of the time, anyway!”

“No – of course not, Oswald!  You know I wouldn’t.” She genuinely meant that.  She would do nothing that would disadvantage him in any way – but then again, he should know that!

“That’s all right then!”  He smiled again, and the light returned to his eyes.  She breathed again. She only just realised that she had been holding her breath!

“Now ,” he said decisively, moving in closer to her and smiling at her with sparkling eyes. “What I propose, Miss Tula, is this – that we will have dinner at the Hungarian restaurant tonight - my treat!   A table for two for you and me. Just as a little thank you, you understand....”

  
  
  



	7. Miss Tula and Mr Cobblepot 'Go Out on a Date'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr Cobblepot takes Taran out to dinner to thank her for her loyalty and makes a surprise offer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack to this chapter - 'You Go to My Head' - Marlene Dietrich

**Miss Tula and Mr Cobblepot ‘go out on a date’.**

**_“Life only gives you one true love – when you find it, run to it!” Gertrude Kapelput._ **

Oswald had booked a table for two by the window.   He had sent the car to collect Taran as he had arranged to meet her at the restaurant.  He had business in town to see to first, he had told her. She didn’t ask what that business was, exactly – she only hoped that this wouldn’t involve any mess or inconvenience….which really would put the tin lid on their evening!

Dinner was at eight.  As promised, he was waiting for her when she arrived.  “Phew,” she thought. She was so glad to see him – for so many reasons!

He stood up politely and gestured to her to sit down as she was shown to the table by the head waiter, who had clearly been primed to give her the ‘five star treatment’ by the wealthy, successful and highly influential (as well as fearsome) Mr Cobblepot.

She had thought that ‘her Oswald’, as she always thought of him so fondly, really couldn’t look any more gorgeous.  He was always beautiful to her! But, as usual, he didn’t fail to surprise her!

He looked amazingly dapper this evening!   He was wearing a tuxedo and shirt made from fabulous royal blue fabric and he had teamed these up with matching silk accessories: a chic embroidered scarf was draped around his shoulders;  a navy blue bow tie graced the collar of his shirt.....and the finishing touch was a sky blue silk pocket square which nestled snugly inside his breast pocket.

  


“ What an exquisite ensemble!” she thought.  “Only Oswald could manage to look this luscious!”

He would always be a perfect vision to her– but this outfit served to bring his beautiful features – especially those brilliant azure eyes -  into aspect in a startling way!

She sat down.   She suppressed a gasp.  Here, in the candlelight, the natural brilliance of his eyes was highlighted so dramatically!  They looked exceptionally striking and surreal!

And then – as if he couldn’t get any more bewitching  – she saw that the eye-catching colour of his clothes was reflected by the candlelight onto his shining dark hair – making its shade transform magically into the blue-black tone of a raven’s wing!  This sent her nerves jangling and her heart racing!

“Good evening, Miss Tula.  You are looking especially elegant tonight.  Is that a new dress?” he observed gallantly. His eyes glanced over her fleetingly but approvingly and his cheeks dimpled as he gave her what she always thought of as his big ‘special Ozzy smile’.

“Thank you, Mr Cobblepot!   And yes, it is!” She blushed, feeling her heart pound even harder.

“Well, it looks very good on you – a lovely little black dress!  It suits you so well – fits you ‘like a glove’ – so to speak!” He winked at her meaningfully.

She laughed appreciatively. “Oh, I see –I get it!  ‘Like a **glove**!’  That’s one of your clever puns, isn’t it?”

“Quelle surprise!” he shrugged, grinning impishly.

“Ah – and now, you are speaking French at me – oh la la!” she thought.  

“You look very smart yourself,” she voiced aloud (thinking, “And that is definitely the understatement of the century!”)

“What – this old thing?” he chuckled, gesturing comically.  Then he added, more sincerely, “Thank you – this is actually the first time that I have given this an airing!”  He played with his bow tie distractedly.

“Really?  Ahhhh. Well, I’m glad you chose this evening for its premiere! “she said warmly.  “You look very handsome in it!”

“Thank you once more!” he beamed, bowing his head respectfully.  

“Wow – he is just such a charmer!” she thought, her heart fluttering again.

“Well – this is nice!” he remarked silkily.   “It’s a little warm in here though, don’t you think?  I am feeling rather thirsty, aren’t you? Here, let me pour you some water.”

“Thank you!” she said gratefully.  

“Has he picked up that I am feeling so hot and bothered?” she wondered.

He poured out the water from the jug that had been thoughtfully provided on the table. (“Good job one of us has a steady hand!” she thought.)

She watched, completely captivated, as he poured the water carefully into the glasses.  His actions were deft and nimble. She loved to look at his lovely hands when they were at work.

“Thank you so much for taking me out like this!”  She said, after a few sips of water made her throat feel like talking again.  “I really do appreciate it!”

“Well, it’s always good to get a change of scenery, right?  And – well, I like to show my gratitude for favours rendered – as you know!” he said, gazing at her meaningfully.

She swallowed hard.  “I’m glad that you feel that I deserve it,” she responded, feeling her face flush hot with intense embarrassment and not a little shame.

“And why would you not think that you deserved it?”  he replied incredulously, his big blue eyes flashing at her with sudden passion.  “ **Honestly,** Miss Tula – it is quite clear that you have gone beyond the call of duty so much – and – to do what you did today...well, no-one else would ever do anything like that for me - believe me!”

“Well – I was glad to do it for you!” she replied, echoing his tone, and trying not to get too carried away with her emotions as she took in the intensity of his stare.    “And - well, quite frankly, I don’t know why no-one else would! But – Mr Cobblepot – please rest assured that I wouldn’t do anything that you didn’t really approve of – or that would harm your cause in any way!”

“Well, duh -  of course I know **that**!”  he laughed, rolling his eyes at her and waving his hand dismissively.  She giggled. She loved his sense of humour! She could cheerfully banter with him like this all night long.

“Anyway – let’s look at the menu – I don’t know about you, Miss Tula, but I could eat a horse!  Not that they would serve that here, you understand!” he chuckled.

“Well, that’s reassuring!” she laughed.

“Yes, indeed!  Well – anyway –I recommend the goulash!  It really is good here!” he enthused. “It’s the best that I have tasted, next to my mother’s own recipe – although of course nobody else’s can ever quite compare to hers!”  He suddenly sounded wistful and reflective, and she noticed that the bright light present in his eyes dimmed - just a little.

“No – of course not!” she said softly.  His mother was a subject that she didn’t dare bring up unless he did!  She knew of the tragic and brutal way she had been taken from him, and she had heard the whole sorry story directly from his lips – and had seen and soothed away his tears on that subject.  She had held him – tightly – and he had not pushed her away. This had been an intimate incident and she kept the memory of these rare occasions close to her heart – and under her hat, of course....

She risked reaching out and lightly placing her hand onto his. “I am so sorry about your mother,”  she said softly. “I know,” he said solemnly,” but then in the next moment he withdrew his hand, and continued, in a much lighter tone, “But let’s not get all maudlin and sentimental this evening, right?  This is meant to be a celebration!” His vibrant smile returned and his lightning blue eyes were re-ignited in an instant.

“Well – yes, of course,” she said.  She moved her hand away tentatively, whilst swooning at that electrifying look he had given her.

“Let’s have some champagne!” he announced brightly.  He gestured to the waiter.

“Champagne?”  she echoed. “My goodness – you are spoiling me!”

“Nonsense!” he scolded, wagging his finger at her playfully.  “As I said, Miss Tula – it is a special occasion. And – on that subject – please, call me Oswald – at least for tonight!  We **are** being more informal, after all – right?”  He gave her a cheeky little smile of encouragement.

“Erm, all right then  - Oswald!” she replied, feeling a warm glow radiate through her.

“There you are, you see – that wasn’t too hard was it – Taran?” he grinned broadly.  Her heart missed a beat!

Taran refused an appetiser, much to his chagrin.   “You don’t seem to eat an awful lot, Miss Tu – Taran,” he commented with concern.  “I do hope you are not one of those ladies who feel it’s necessary to go on a diet every five minutes?  I have to say that you don’t look like you would ever need to!”

“Oh – thank you, you are very kind!  And no, I am not on a diet!” she reassured him, thinking, “How sweet and lovely is he?!”

“Besides, I want to save myself for the main course – I want to enjoy it as much as possible!” she added, to reinforce her point.

“Well – I guarantee you won’t be disappointed!” he said keenly.  “But anyway – I will get a bread basket so we can soak up all this champagne!  No arguments, now!”

She suddenly realised that she had been very selfish by refusing a starter when he might be starving, and he would clearly not want to sit there eating while she had nothing!  She shared this anxious thought with him.

“No, no, I am in agreement with you, it would be best to go straight to the goulash – we don’t want to spoil our palates!  But the bread will do very well with the bubbly, won’t it?”

When the bread came she noticed that he was very generous with the butter, spreading it thickly onto each slice of the lovely fresh crusty country bread, and clearly enjoying every bite.  At one point he had a little melted butter glistening on his lips and she couldn’t help imagining herself kissing it off that pretty little mouth....just before he licked it away distractedly, causing her to have yet more very naughty fantasies!

They had red wine with the goulash – of course!  “This one is a particularly good vintage,” he informed her.  “It has a blend of Grenache and Syrah grapes – apparently, this wine is a perfect companion to stews!”

“Oh, Mr Co – Oswald – you really know about wine!” she remarked, feeling genuinely impressed.  The wine felt warm, velvety soft, and smooth against her tongue, and there was a taste of berries and spice coming through.  It did compliment the goulash just as he had said it would.

“Well, yes, I suppose so – but then again, I did read the label too!” he chuckled, pointing at it sheepishly.

“Oh,  you!” she laughed.  “Really - what are you like?!”

The goulash was itself a triumph, just as he had promised.  She polished off every morsel, relishing every mouthful.

He looked at her empty plate with approval.  “I am glad to see that you brought your appetite after all!” he smiled.

“Well – to be quite honest, Mr Co –Oswald, I didn’t know how hungry I was until I started eating!” she confessed.

“I see!” he remarked meaningfully. “Well, are you up for dessert then?”

“Oh –well, I don’t know....”

“Oh, go on - Taran – please allow me to tempt you!” he winked.

“Erm – well, if you put it like that...”  How indeed could she resist such an invitation?!

“There – I knew it!  That’s my girl!” He clapped his hands together gleefully and smiled at her triumphantly.

They ended up sharing a cheese board, which was, again, excellent.  She loved this! Sharing food with him, and sharing conversation, and jokes, and anecdotes – she was sure that his were very toned down, of course, for what he would see as her delicate feminine ears, although he might more than suspect that she knew of his ‘goings on’ – he was perfectly aware that she was not naive or stupid!  But he would still like to keep up the pretence that she was not touched in the slightest by his shadier and far more unpleasant dealings – at least for an occasion like this.

Oswald had ordered a fine port to go with the cheese and he called for cognac after their coffee – so the alcoholic content of their beverages far exceeded the caffeine that should have sobered them up!

Which was why Taran had to ask him to repeat himself – more than once – when he said what he said when they had finished with eating and drinking and were waiting for the bill to arrive.

“There you are in that tiny flat of yours, all alone,” he was saying woozily, waving a rolled-up napkin in her direction as he spoke. “And there I am, rattling around in my great big rambling mansion –with all its empty rooms – all that space, not doing anything....”

“Where is he going with this?” she wondered, feeling a little bewildered and fuzzy with all the drink she had consumed.

“And – well, you know, it gets kind of lonely being there all by myself – and I suppose you feel the same too about living alone, right?”

“Erm -sometimes, yes, I suppose!”

“Well – you know, it wouldn’t be a bad thing – I mean, it wouldn’t inconvenience me at all – if someone were to come and live there with me – I mean, we wouldn’t trip over each other, or anything....”

“Mr Co – Oswald – please – what are you trying to say?” she said boldly, the alcohol making her unusually brave and direct.

“What I am trying to say is....”  He paused momentarily, took a deep breath, and then  stared into her eyes, holding her gaze so powerfully with his blue rays of beauty that her heart almost stopped! He wasn’t too drunk to mean what he said –she could see that!  She couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say next!

“What I am saying –asking, hoping for, is...come live with me, Miss Tu – Taran.  As my companion. As my friend! Please?!”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have used far too many exclamation marks in this chapter. I will have to edit accordingly.


	8. Jim's Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim's day just gets worse and worse

**Jim's Bad Day**

 

Jim had had a tough day all round.

 

First, failing to get anywhere on that case - and then getting slapped around with a pair of gloves by that crazy bitch Taran Tula.

 

He felt such a mixture of feelings towards her.  

 

He did, of course, feel bad for calling her a bitch, but really, she had betrayed him, and betrayed the GCPD, by changing her allegiance, leading them on….

 

But anyway, he would take a long walk, get some fresh air - if you could call the air in Gotham fresh, which really, you couldn’t.  It might help to calm him down a little before heading home.

 

He cut down a side street and noticed the Hungarian Restaurant - a small neighbourhood joint that he’d walked past countless times and ignored, as goulash wasn’t his first choice when it came to eating out.

He approached and came close by, and then something familiar suddenly caught his eye and stopped him in his tracks.  Someone, that was.

There they were, sitting by the window - laughing, talking, raising their glasses….

It was Oswald and Taran - of course, it had to be.

This was the perfect end to a perfect day.  Somehow, this ludicrous coincidence just didn’t surprise him at all.

They were clearly having a great time - most probably having a good laugh at his expense.

Jim seethed silently, feeling angry with, and at, them both.

He didn't feel the need to duck out of sight, because it was clear that they were deep in conversation and wouldn't even notice him standing there, just a few feet away from their window.

He subconsciously put his hand up to his cheek, where he could swear the skin was still stinging from her impassioned blows with those damned leather gloves.  She had struck him several times and then read him the riot act. Those gloves - he guessed they must have been Oswald’s. He had even smelt Oswald’s signature sandalwood and cedarwood scent on them - what a giveaway!  Had Oswald actually given Miss Tula the weapon she had used to punish him, to strike him when he least expected, for deserting her beloved Cobblepot in that place?

The worst thing about it was - he did feel guilty, deep down.  For letting Oswald Cobblepot do time, endure such tortures, for a crime he had himself committed - even though he had only finished what Oswald started, still, he had been the one who had given the mercy stroke.  And Oswald had confessed to it, proudly, gone down for it, but had then suffered so much - and he, Jim Gordon, had never lifted a finger to help him. Yes, he did feel guilty - and sometimes, when he was alone, he had to admit that it might be something more than just remorse.

Oswald had never hurt Jim -not physically, anyway, although Jim had been pretty rough with him through frustration, anger….but Oswald had managed to hurt him in other ways.

He was hurting now - not just from the lash of the gloves, but inside somewhere.  He swallowed down the lump in his throat.

How much of this anger he felt towards Taran was just anger, and how much was resentment and jealousy?  Oswald and he had known each other before she had come along. True, Jim had rejected any offer of friendship extended by Oswald - but he still had the right to some respect, goddamnit.  They had been through so much together! Maybe not on the same side always, but they were wading through the same crap.

Oswald had always been so pleased to see him.  And he had batted him away. He’d had to!

He’d been offered a seat, a glass of wine, or even champagne when Oswald was especially flush, and triumphant, and clearly keen to show off in front of his police detective friend.  But not these days. Not since Taran Tula had come along.

Now it was Miss Tula Oswald was wining and dining.  He had got under her skin, and it looked like she had begun to worm her way under his, too.

The difference was that Miss Tula was able to reciprocate Oswald’s generosity without feeling conflicted.  He, Jim Gordon, did not have that luxury.

He couldn’t help feeling envious of her.

He shook his head slowly and sighed heavily. He turned on his heel and walked away towards home.  Alone. Once there, he would sit there and lick his wounds, both literal and metaphorical - in the company of his friend Jim Beam.


	9. Decent Proposition - Mr Cobblepot Follows Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After making his offer, Oswald makes sure Miss Tula doesn't forget her answer!

**Decent Proposition – Mr Cobblepot follows up.**

“Mr Co – Oswald – now although I am so flattered – and delighted - at your invitation, I must point out that we have  **both** been drinking rather a lot of intoxicating liquids tonight!  Are you  **sure** about this?” she persisted - not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, but trying her best to save them both from any later humiliation or embarrassment.

He came forward and laid his hands firmly on her shoulders.  He gave her that little tight-lipped smile of forced patience that she knew so well and loved so much.  She knew there and then that he truly meant to be sincere. The temptation to kiss his sweet little mouth, especially as he was so close to her now, was so overwhelming – but she knew she shouldn’t, and couldn’t!

“Miss Tula – Taran – please believe me when I say that I will not only  **still** ‘respect you in the morning’, but I shall also EXPECT you on my doorstep just as soon as you can arrange for it to happen!” he asserted sternly, his big eyes flashing at her like blue lightning bolts.   Her knees buckled - as if she had, indeed, just been struck by lightning – and she said, “Well – in that case – if it is something that you want that much….”

“It is!  Now, let’s have no further debate on the subject,” he declared decisively.  “Now, regretfully it is time for us to part. But never fear, I shall not change my mind – and in fact, just to prove it, I shall call you up every hour – on the hour – to remind you of that!”  He grinned impishly.

“You will?”  She couldn’t believe that he would really do that!

“It is a promise!”  He winked. “Now off you go, my dear friend – your car is waiting!”

Once she was back inside her own flat, and the effects of the drink began to wear off, she started to wonder if she had actually imagined it!  Surely he couldn’t really have been serious! But wouldn’t it be wonderful if he had been? It would have been such a perfect outcome from a magical evening with the man she loved….but if not, at least she would have an amazing night to look back on….

She got herself a glass of water and started to remove her makeup in front of her dressing table mirror.  She yawned and suddenly realised just how tired she was! She had not noticed this at all when she had been in his company.  He had been such a welcome distraction!

She got undressed and sloped off to bed.  She slipped in between the sheets and suddenly, an overwhelming sensation of loneliness came over her!  She was missing him acutely already! Her heart sank like a stone.

But she consoled herself that she would soon be back at work and sharing her space with him again.  She had never thought that she could enjoy any job so much – but look how wrong she had been!

She started to drift off to sleep, hoping that her gorgeous date would appear in her dreams so that she wouldn’t have to be without him a second longer than she had to be!

She awoke with a start as the phone started ringing loudly next to her.

“What the…?” she groaned, bleary-eyed, and she turned over and snatched up the receiver crossly.

“Yes?  Who is it?” she grumbled tetchily into the mouthpiece.  It was nearly one o’clock….

“Hello – it’s me!” came the bright voice with its rich, unmistakeable tone on the other end of the line.

“Erm – Oswald?  Is that you?!” she answered incredulously.

“Yes of course it is – who else would it be?!” came the petulant reply.  “Well then? Have you finished packing up for your move yet?!”

 


	10. Defective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taran shows sympathy for Oswald's injured leg and this leads to some guilty reflections

**Defective.**

“What is it, Oswald?” she asked with concern.

He had been wincing sporadically and shifting uncomfortably in his seat for a while.

“Oh  - it’s nothing,” he said dismissively.

“Are you sure?  You seem to be in a great deal of discomfort!” she persisted.

He glanced at her with his little nervous, tight-lipped smile and shrugged.  “Well, it’s just my leg. You know, the defective one!” he gave a chuckle, tapping his leg as if it were a naughty child playing him up.

“Oh, I see!  I’m sorry to hear that it’s troubling you.  Can I get you anything? Painkillers, or something?”

“No no – no need,” he said hastily.  “It will wear off presently, I am sure!  It just gets a little cranky in the cold weather, that’s all!”  He grinned impishly.

“Well, if you change your mind…..”

“Of course,” he said quickly.  Then he added sweetly, with his cheeky little smirk, “Dear Miss Tula – always looking out for my welfare!  What  **would** I do without you?”

Taran’s heart gave a little flutter.  If only he knew what the original reason for her appointment and her existence under his roof had been!  Even though she had decided very quickly to defect to his side, he still wouldn’t be so quick to praise her – and that was putting it mildly!  She hoped he would never find out about her initial deception.

But uppermost in her mind was Fish Moonie, and her part in all this.  She had made such a good job of hobbling him as a punishment for informing on her!  She had beaten and kicked him until he’d cried in agony, his leg broken beyond repair.  For that, she couldn’t help deeply despising her – although she had since died, and so she would now have no opportunity to punish her personally for treating her Oswald so savagely, which really stuck in her throat.  But she was reminded that Oswald had made his peace with Fish in the end - at her end – actually shedding tears over her dying body as she finally gave up the ghost and slipped away to her last resting place. For this reason, she tried not to hold too much hatred in her heart.  But she still found it very hard – especially at times like this, when she sensed that the pain in his leg served as a prompt to him that Fish would never truly be dead to him.

And this would always be a permanent reminder to him of what kind of business he was in, and what a dangerous part he always played – and freely chose to gamble with – mostly smartly, but sometimes rashly, in his chosen way of life.

And then there was Jim Gordon – the man who she would be indebted to forever for refusing to go through with Oswald’s execution, despite her anger with him for trying to use her against him.  Jim Gordon was a good man, and, to all intents and purposes, her Oswald was a bad man – but Oswald had been clever enough to recognise the good in Jim, and the fact that he was a very valuable ally to have - and had rewarded his loyalty accordingly.   The respect, no matter how begrudging, between these two men was tangible! Oswald was a gentleman villain – he at least seemed to have a moral code of sorts and was prepared to repay a kindness accordingly, and she was sure that Jim had picked up on this too.

But then again, she was always prepared to make excuses for Oswald.    Love indeed was blind! She pretended to turn a blind eye and a deaf ear to that more treacherous and brutal side of him – the side he tried to hide from her, but which he couldn’t always conceal arriving home late with unexplained bruises, blood on his face, and on his clothes – some of it his own, but most of it from a third party, of course. 

When first he had come back with an injured hand, which he had attempted to bandage himself, she had gone to re-dress it, but he had been very dismissive and cranky and told her not to fuss him so much.  Then she had seen in his eyes that he didn’t want her taking any part in his escapades – not even in the cleaning up of the mess – as he somehow didn’t want this to touch her.

“Besides,” he told her, “You have to expect little accidents like this when you’re in the business I am in – and this is nothing!” as if that were somehow supposed to comfort her!

_ And more than once he had made a black joke out of it, like when he had returned from a particularly messy kill, his pristine white shirt bespattered with blood and his face covered in gashes, and she had said (not being able to help herself) – “What the hell happened to you?!”  and he had replied, with his quick, nervous laugh, “This is nothing – you should see the other fella – hmmm, on second thoughts, that probably wouldn’t be such a good idea!” _

She had still persuaded him to let her see to his wounded hand.  “You could get an infection!” she had scolded gently. Then he had winced and recoiled when she had dabbed iodine onto it.  “Now now, be brave! This is for your own good!” she had remonstrated playfully, and he had given her that little tight-lipped smile of strained patience and she had felt so weak again!

He was just as blissfully unaware of  **her** other self -  her alter-ego, who always had his back and was never far from his side, lurking in the shadows,  while he was out and about on his ‘adventures’. She had built this persona for herself, and had trained solidly to get to the right level of strength, fitness and fighting skills to act as his secret body guard – or his ‘tiny unknown soldier’ who always turned up in the nick of time to defend him.  She didn’t know how she kept her face straight when Oswald talked to her of his ‘little mystery champion cherub’, whom he seemed to assume was a boy! “Well, let him think that - all the better for my deception!” she thought.

She always left once she knew that Oswald had the upper hand – as she didn’t want to see what violence he was capable of, despite being deeply relieved that he wasn’t going to come to serious harm.  But when he needed backup she was there – and would stay as long as she was needed - always.

One day, whilst encountering her beloved Ozzy under this guise, she determined to reward herself with a stolen kiss from his pretty little mouth – and it must be one day soon!  She was hoping that he wouldn’t object if he thought she was male….

She knew that he had a very keen sense of smell and loved a good scent – so was careful to use a more masculine fragrance when in her ‘cherub’ persona so that he didn’t recognise her true identity, or gender, by the aroma on her skin.  Then as ‘Miss Tula’, his very proper but highly valued secretary, she would revert to using her daytime perfume, which he would occasionally compliment her on in his inimitable way. “Oh my, Miss Tula – you smell  **good** ,” he would gush, sniffing deeply at the air near her, “Am I mistaken or is that Calvin Klein’s ‘Beauty’ you have on today?” and she would blush and feel warm and fuzzy, and say, “Why, thank you Mr Cobblepot – yes, it is!” and he would smirk at her and say, “Ahhh, there you go - I knew it!” and grin at her impishly,  before hobbling away and turning his attention back to something else.

He wasn’t the only one with a sharp sense of smell – she had that gift as well.  She had heard people be very uncomplimentary about the way Oswald smelled, and she couldn’t understand why.  It was most probably just out of spite, because they despised him so much for his rapid rise to power, or it could just be that because his nickname was ‘Penguin’, they naturally assumed that he would be stinking of fish!  But all  **she** detected on him was the warm aroma of sandalwood and cedar - and she had seen evidence that this was indeed his signature scent, as she had spotted bottles of these oils lined up on his bathroom cabinet.  He must use in them in his bath every day! She always looked forward to seeing him first thing before the business of the day began, when he was freshly bathed and smelling so heavenly! And then even when he left the room, there was still a faint aroma, a beautiful vapour trail, left behind by him that meant that he was still with her even after he had gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oswald's comments about Miss Tula's perfume are inspired by his allegedly 'creepy' behaviour towards Fish. "Mmmm, lilacs, you smell good." Fish retorts with the insult, "You don't!" I thought his attentions to her were sexy rather than sinister (especially the husky way he says 'lilacs', ooh la la!) and I wanted to make my own retort to her insult - which I would bet was just her means of trying to hurt him rather than a genuine observation.


	11. Deliverance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taran's dark side and her strong loyalty for Oswald begins to surface. Minor act of violence.

**Deliverance.**

“So if you’ll just sign here,” said the delivery man.

“Yes, I’m signing this on behalf of Mr Cobblepot,” she smiled.  She loved making a point of saying Oswald’s name and reminding herself how much he trusted her to look after his official business in his absence.

He was due back soon, and she couldn’t wait for the moment of his arrival.

“Cobblepot – more like Hobblepot!”  the delivery man joked.

Taran stopped writing and looked up and into the driver’s mocking face.  She wasn’t smiling. She didn’t seem to get the humour in what he’d just said at all.

“I beg your pardon?” she said stiffly.

“Well, he has that walk – y’know – looks like a penguin!”  the delivery man persisted. He clearly didn’t think this little woman had much power or intelligence, and thought he must have the right to hurl insults left right and centre at the person she represented!

“I must correct his misconceptions!” she thought.

So she smiled a slow, meaningful smile.  Then she laughed.

“Ah, so now you get it!” smirked the delivery man.

“Oh yes, I do get it!” she said.  And he was going to get it too – and it wouldn’t be a big fat tip!

“I’m glad to see you have a sense of humour!” said the driver.

“And I’m glad to see that you have a fondness for hospital food!” she grinned.

“Uh – say what?”

 

A few minutes later, Oswald returned to find an ambulance stationed just outside his front door with its lights flashing.

For a moment, he had a massive panic attack.  Had anything happened to Taran while he was away?  Had anyone attacked her while he was absent?

Then he saw the man – a total stranger - being stretchered off, clutching at his leg and crying.    And he saw her standing in the doorway, looking innocent and shaking her head as they carried the man away.  He sighed with intense relief.

“What happened?” he asked, as she welcomed him across the threshold with more than a little joy – he loved being greeted by her, as she was always so happy to see him!

“Oh – nothing really.” She looked coy.

“Now, now, Miss Tula – what have you been up to?”  He grinned at her, his eyes twinkling.

“I was just helping a rather sick man get his treatment!”

“So I noticed.  What was wrong with him, then?”

“Oh, just a terminal case of bad manners!” she winked.

“Oh honestly!  I can’t leave you alone for a single moment, can I?”  he scolded, loving every second of this meaningful banter with her!

  
  



	12. Oswald Kicks Off About a Lack of Respect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald defends Miss Tula's honour - whether she wants him to or not. Threat of violence and off scene implied violence.

**Oswald kicks off about a lack of respect**

“I would appreciate it if you  **didn’t** use such language in front of my secretary!”

The man had potentially uttered his last words – he was a dead man walking, but wasn’t at all aware of it – yet….

Taran stood there transfixed, watching the black expression in Oswald’s huge, beautiful eyes, that manner of tightening his lips, and the forced politeness of his tone, which could only mean – danger!  And potentially, brutality and death to follow swiftly from it!

She was aware that he was extremely violent and psychotic, of course – although he never usually let her see this side of his nature.  But she was under no illusions. She knew he was a killer and capable of great sadism and cruelty when he was pushed to it. Hell, some of his aggression had even seemingly rubbed off on her – she could feel herself coming over some way to his dark side, and she had always somehow suspected that she had had that potential for violence deep down….a certain cheeky delivery man certainly appreciated that and would not forget her in a hurry!

But this wasn’t the time or place for a demonstration.  She had to do something to head him off in his pent-up fury – no matter how attractive, and even incredibly sexy, he looked to her in this worked-up state – and even though she really appreciated the fact that he was, after all, defending her honour, which made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

So she went quickly to his side and whispered in his ear.

“Remember, Oswald – revenge is a dish best served cold.  You can always deal with this later!”

She detected a tiny shudder of breathless excitement coursing through his slender little body – as she was so close to him.  She knew she had struck a chord. Also, no matter how wrong she knew it was, she couldn’t help feeling more than a tad turned on by his physical response!

He turned and smiled at her darkly and with deep understanding.  Then he turned to his quarry and said, in his very sweetest way, “Well, it seems that you have been forgiven by Miss Tula.  I think that is very generous of her under the circumstances. Now, are you going to be gracious and say you are sorry?”

The man apologised immediately.   He looked and sounded nervous! He must have seen the danger and the gentle menace reflected in Oswald’s eyes and heard it lurking beneath his steady, measured tone. 

“Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Oswald smiled pleasantly.  He then concluded his business before dismissing the man politely.  As he walked away, Oswald called after him, “And I hope you will remember your manners in front of a lady in future!”

Taran turned and smiled at Oswald, all too aware that despite the stay of execution she had given that man, Oswald would almost certainly track him down and give him his punishment anyway.  She just didn’t want to be around to see it.

“There you are – you see, you can be magnanimous!” she said, but her eyes gave away that she knew what he was really intending to do.

“Indeed, I can!” he sighed, but the manic light in his eyes also reflected his true meaning.  “One has to be professional! Although, dear Miss Tula, the words did, well, rather stick in my throat!”

“Ah.  Well, would you like a glass of water to wash them down with?” she joked, hoping to change the subject and lighten the mood.

He gave a little chuckle of appreciation.  “Oh, Miss Tula, you really do have a way with words!  No, no thank you, I am good for now. But do you know what - I think I am going to go for a little stroll – I suddenly feel in need of a nice breath of fresh air….”

She knew she should try and talk him out of it, but she was pretty sure that it wouldn’t get her very far.  Anyway, that man was a representative of a rival criminal contingent and so wasn’t exactly an innocent party – was he?  Then again, she would always make excuses for Oswald….and would protect him with her life if his safety was threatened. Always.


	13. Mr Cobblepot Gets a Home Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter describes what happens when Taran confesses a secret to Oswald. He will admit something to her too, and the next chapter will describe her response.
> 
> You might notice that I made a faux pas in that Oswald already refers to them 'swapping handkerchiefs' in a previous chapter - and he was reflecting on what happens in this chapter - so I will have to edit and reposition the chapter at some point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack to this chapter: - 'I Can't Make You Love Me' - George Michael's version. Such a beautiful rendition - and sums up Taran's unrequited feelings.

**Taran Makes a Confession  to Oswald**

“Mr Cobblepot – there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Yes, Miss Tula?” Oswald pottered around distractedly, shuffling papers at the table, only half listening to what she was saying.  His plan was really coming together – and her administrative skills were really helping to organise all these documents!   Oh, whatever would he do without her?  he wondered.  He couldn’t wish for a better secretary!  His instincts about her had been spot on!

“Erm – Oswald….”

“Yes?” he turned and gave his full attention to her.  When she called him ‘Oswald’ it meant she really had something important to tell him!    He had come to know her so well, and so quickly!

She didn’t look happy.  This was ominous!

“Oswald, I…”  she hesitated.

“What is it, Miss Tula?”  He hobbled forward to meet her.  “Is anything amiss?”

“I have to tell you that….

“Oh, Miss Tula - whatever is the matter?  Your hands are trembling!”

Her hands were indeed shaking visibly.  So much for keeping her composure!

He took her hands in his and gave them a little squeeze.  His big eyes looked at her with genuine concern.  “Come on now, tell Oswald all about it!”

This was just what she didn’t need – the sweet and caring side of Oswald – all traces of psychosis completely absent!  She lost her composure completely.

“Oh, Oswald!”  she broke down, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Hey - Miss Tula – come here!”  and he put his arms around her and embraced her.  “Shush, now!” he told her.  She wept unashamedly into his shoulder.

She couldn’t tell him.  She had lost her nerve.  And her sense of self-preservation was still too strong.

She managed to pull herself together, and lifted her tear-drenched face, snivelling, “I’m so sorry, Oswald!”

“Don’t say that - silly!”  Oswald smiled down at her with that big beaming grin, his blue eyes twinkling, making her knees buckle. 

“Now, what is all this about?  Let’s dry those tears!” he said, producing his silk square with a flourish and dabbing at her eyes gently.  “And your nose – well, here, take the handkerchief, you can do that yourself!”  He wrinkled up his nose at her.  

She took the handkerchief from him and blew her nose loudly.    He winced momentarily.  “Thank you!” she smiled.

“Ah, now that’s much better – you’re smiling!  But - erm – you can keep the handkerchief!” he added, grimacing and waving comically, as she went to give it back to him.

“Oh  - yes, of course, sorry!”

“You’re sorry  **again** ?  Now this just won’t do!  I won’t have you keep apologising to me this way.  You must know I value you highly!”

“Thank you, Oswald.”

“No – thank  **you** !  I really don’t know what I would do without you.  Now come on and sit down over here by the fireplace.  We can go through all these papers later!”

“All right.”

She was all his now.  She was under his spell.  She had always known she would be.  Damn his kindness and his cuteness! She just couldn’t go through with it after all.

She had tried to tell herself time and again – “He’s crazy!  He’s a killer!  He can’t be trusted!  You can’t save him!”  But this hadn’t worked.  She really couldn’t help the way she felt.  Love really was illogical!

And he was being so flippin sweet to her….which didn’t help at all!

He waited for her to sit at one of the high backed chairs by the fire.  He grasped the poker and stoked the flames, saying, “It really is chilly tonight, isn’t it?”   

“Yes, it is.”

When he had finished stoking up the embers into lapping flames, he sat down opposite her in his own high backed chair, then sat forward, clasping his hands tightly across his knees.  She noticed with affection the way his hair stuck up so comically – his self-styled “disco-vamp’ look – even that made her heart turn over.

“Now” he said with determination, “Please tell me – what was it that upset you so much?”

She couldn’t tell him what she had intended to admit – that she had been sent to infiltrate his gang, to scupper his plans. It wasn’t just her own self-preservation that drove her to keep silent – or even her sense of right and wrong - she also knew that she was in too deep with him – and that her feelings for him were out of control,  and that there was nothing she could do to stop these feelings from controlling her.  She was a lost cause!

So instead of confessing that she was here to betray him – she instead betrayed her true feelings for him, throwing herself on his mercy in a way she had never expected to.

“I wanted to apologise…”

“There you go again, apologising!  I told you there was absolutely no reason for you to do that!”  he said, wagging his finger at her and pretending to scold her.

“But you didn’t let me finish – Oswald.”

“Oh.  I see, well this time it appears that it’s my turn to apologise, Miss Tula.  I am sorry to interrupt you so rudely!”

“No, please, Oswald.  I think we have both done enough apologising tonight!”

“Indeed!” he chuckled.  “Well, out with it then – tell me what made you cry.  I promise I will make it better, whatever it is!”

“Oh, you sweet man!”  she sighed with exasperation.  “You can’t make  **this**  better!”

“Don’t be silly – I can do anything, you know that!”

“Can you make me fall out of love with you?” she said.

  
  



	14. Oswald Makes an Admittance to Taran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Taran shocks Oswald with her declaration of love, Oswald has something he wants to reveal, too

**Oswald makes an admittance to Taran.**

Oswald was in total shock.  He was speechless! 

After a few seconds, he managed to pull himself together.  He cleared his throat. “Wha-what did you just say, e-exactly?” he stammered.

“I said – can you make me fall out of love with you?”   Her heart was banging in her chest, threatening, it seemed, to jump right out of her mouth.  

She had really gone and done it – said it – now.  There was no going back.

“I – erm – didn’t know you had actually erm – fallen  **in** love with me!” he said falteringly.  “When did this happen – I mean, for how long have you…?”

“Since the very first day I met you,” she said.

“Oh – I see!”  Then he sat there, staring at the floor, clearly stuck for words, his eyes becoming bigger and brighter with every second.

“I’m sorry!” she interjected, anxious to fill the void of silence that now seemed to exist between them.  “This is obviously not a piece of information that makes you happy!”

He looked up at her again and his eyes were so breathtakingly beautiful in his panic-stricken state  that it was all she could do to stop herself from going to him and throwing herself upon him bodily there and then. 

“No, no, it’s not that!” he said quickly, in his breathless, nervous manner, his hands and lips working themselves up into a frenzy.  “It’s just that – well, that was the very last thing I was expecting you to say!”

“I can’t see why,” she argued, - meanwhile thinking, “I wonder what he thought I  **was** going to say?” Then she continued aloud, “I thought that my feelings towards you would be pretty obvious by now.”

“Well,” he responded breathlessly, with his trademark nervous tight-lipped smile, “I’m afraid I never suspected a thing!  This is – well, to put it mildly, a tad surprising to me! Still, I do know that you are good at keeping a confidence – that is one of the many reasons I employed you – as you know!””

He had smartly reminded her of her trusted position in his household – clever Oswald! – and of the divide that was meant to exist between boss and employer.  And yet he had developed a great affection for her which she hoped that she had not now killed in him. 

“Of course,” she said tentatively, “I hope that this won’t make things – difficult - between us now.  You know – professionally, and all.”

“Oh – no, no, definitely not!” he said hastily, with his nervous little smile.  At least, then, he wasn’t intending to dismiss her from his service – and send her away.  This, at least, was a huge relief to her.

Then he leaned forward again meaningfully, clasping his hands back together.  The expression in his eyes became gentler. 

He was about to deal the mercy blow – she could see that.   She prepared herself for his response, whilst taking in the beauty of that exquisitely gorgeous gaze.

“Taran - don’t think I am not flattered by your declaration, but….”he began.

“You don’t feel the same.  I know – it’s ok,” she interjected hastily, trying to head him off and possibly save herself from too much embarrassment – and pain.

“Now now - you didn’t let me finish!” he scolded gently.  “What I was about to say was – I am so sorry to disappoint you, Miss Tula, but – well, I actually happen to be  - erm - gay!” He shrugged apologetically.

She sat there for a moment, looking back at him and his amazing, penetrating blue stare.  She swallowed hard. How was she to answer that now? She had heard the rumours about Edward, but she had still wondered, and hoped, for her own selfish sake, whether there was any chance these whisperings might be untrue – or, failing that, he might be – well, flexible about his practices, as she knew some others were.  Clearly, he wasn’t. In this, at least, he seemed to have ‘chosen his side’ and stuck to it. Way to go, Oswald, she thought, with begrudging admiration. But still, love really was illogical in so many ways – and she was helpless in its power. She still couldn’t turn her back on him – in fact, she felt that he might need her love and support now more than ever!

So she just shrugged.  “So you’re gay - so what?” she said.

“Erm  - what do you mean, ‘So what?’”  He had clearly been expecting her to be shocked and her reaction had taken the wind right out of his sails!

“Oh, Oswald – do you really think I could stop loving you just because you are gay?  If anything, you telling me this makes me love you even more!”

“What?  But - but why?!” His eyes got exceptionally big and bright with confusion.  Her heart turned over. He looked exquisitely beautiful in his bewilderment!

“Listen - dear, sweet Oswald.  I know – I always knew, I suppose – that you could never really be – well, mine.  I had heard about Edward, and with that in mind, I more than suspected that I would never have a chance with you.   Besides, even if you hadn’t told me what you just told me, (which, by the way, I am so humbled by –that you trusted me enough to tell me!) - I doubt if I would ever have had a chance anyway.  You are my boss after all! And we know that workplace romances, more often than not, end in tears! And – well, it would be so arrogant of me to assume that you would ever find  **me** attractive, gay or straight!”  He went to protest and she waved at him to be silent.  “It’s ok – you don’t have to say anything, I am not fishing for compliments from you!  But anyway – your little piece of news won’t, can’t, change how I feel about you! I think you are beautiful!  I love you, no matter what, Oswald Cobblepot, and I am not going to stop just because you are not going to sleep with me!”

“Oh!” he said simply.  He sat there for a few moments, clearly shell shocked, before he opened his sweet lips and spoke.  The tone of his voice was so deliciously soft and humble that she was almost tempted to weep.

“Well – I must say, I never expected that reaction – and those – well,  very kind words about me!” he said sadly. “Thank you! I only wish that I could deserve them.”

“I meant every word, and you more than deserve them!  I would do anything for you – I hoped you would know that by now - Oswald!”

“Please  - stop, you are making me blush!” he giggled coyly, his light-hearted look returning.  Then he tilted his head, putting his finger to his lips, apparently musing to himself, as she just sat and looked at him, never taking her eyes from him  - she would never tire of studying him, no matter what expression he had on his lovely face! 

“So then…..where does this leave us?” he said, addressing her with his cute little impish grin, his eyes shining.  Her sparky, spooky little boy was back! She knew then that everything would be all right.

“I have absolutely no idea!” she shrugged.

“Well then,” he chuckled mischievously, a wicked glint appearing in his sapphire eyes.  “I guess that you and I are in real trouble, aren’t we, Miss Tula?” 

“I guess we are, Mr Cobblepot,” she agreed.

  
  



	15. Miss Tula and Mr Cobblepot Discuss Beverages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Tula/Taran and Mr Cobblepot/Oswald are enjoying breakfast together but Oswald confesses that her choice of beverage might not be his....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this after I watched the episode where Oswald told Maroni he didn't like coffee - and then noticed that in subsequent episodes, he was drinking coffee. I don't know if this was down to a continuity error or if Oswald was saying this to Maroni just to be spiteful - as they were in a bad place at the time. Anyway, I didn't want to waste this so here it is! Hope you like it.

**Mr C and Miss Tula discuss beverages**

One morning, just as they were about to go over the business of the day, Taran offered to pour Oswald a second cup of coffee.

“Erm – no, thank you, Miss Tula – not for me!” he said politely, yet firmly, in the way that he did, and putting his hand over his cup to emphasise his point.

“Really?  I don’t know how you can refuse, Mr C – I never feel quite up to anything before my second cup!” she said playfully.

“Well – to be quite honest with you, Miss Tula – and as you know, honesty is one of the things I really value…”

“Oh yes – of course!” she agreed quickly, interrupting his flow.

“Well, anyway,” he continued, with his trademark tight-lipped smile and awkward tone, “To be quite honest with you – I actually – well, don’t really like coffee!”  He shrugged apologetically.

“Erm – I beg your pardon?”  She couldn’t quite believe her ears.  This was a blow!

“I don’t really like it.  Not my thing!”

“Oh!”

“Terribly sorry, Miss Tula!” he smiled sheepishly,  looking to all intents and purposes like a naughty schoolboy expecting detention.

“But –erm – you have been drinking it with me for weeks now!  Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“Well, I guess you – well, you never asked me!”  He shrugged again and grinned his impish grin.

“Oh – I see!  Well – I’m sorry I didn’t!”  She went quiet. She was still taking in this latest revelation.  She couldn’t recall the last time she had felt this disappointed.

_Well, except for the time she had confessed her love for him and he had said, “I am so sorry to disappoint you, Miss Tula – but actually - erm – I happen to be gay!”  She had been told of this fact already, of course, but it hadn’t stopped her from being crazy enough to throw her hat into the ring – just in case she had been misinformed….._

He smiled his edgy little smile again and squirmed visibly in his seat.

“Well – this is awkward!” he said coyly.  “Am I in trouble now?” and he looked askance at her with his shining eyes and she knew full well that **he** was so aware that he never could truly be in her bad books.  This was a personal weakness of hers that she would **never** seek to correct!

“No, of course not – I am just a bit taken aback, that’s all!”

“Ah well – that is a relief!” he said, fanning himself as if to calm himself down.

“Would you like me to get you something else?”

“No, no, I am good for now.  But maybe next time I will just have a herbal tea.”  He giggled. “I will be so jittery now after all that caffeine!”

“Ah – so you are sensitive to caffeine?”

“Just a tad!” he chuckled.  “But – well, it’s not just that….”

“Oh?  What else is it then?” she said curiously.

“I have a sort of – aversion!  You know – psychologically speaking.”

“Really?  And may I ask what brought this on?” she ventured.  He suddenly had that clouded look in his eyes. That meant that he was having a painful memory, or at the very least, a recollection that caused him some discomfort or annoyance.

“Well, Taran,” he said softly and confidentially, “I happen to associate coffee with Italians – that is, big fat Italians with illusions of grandeur!” he added bitterly, with angry pursed-up lips.

“Ah,” she said simply.  Don Falcone. Maroni. He had played those two off against each other so cleverly, and brought about their downfall, but, meanwhile, Maroni had treated him as a monkey, and a punch bag, and a gofer, when – as far as she could fathom (and, she was sure, he would agree!) – he actually had far more class, savvy and intelligence than either of these gentlemen!  So no wonder he had developed a deep dislike of their favourite beverage.

“But remember - I like coffee too, Oswald,” she said pointedly.

“True.  You got me there!” he shrugged, and the bright, manic light came back into his eyes again.

“I tell you what,” she said, “I will make it a mission of mine to get you to enjoy coffee again.”

“Hmmm, would that be such a good idea?  I mean, I would be – well, permanently wired!  Could you possibly put up with me in such a state?”

“I wouldn’t need to if I found a good **decaffeinated** brand!” she pointed out smartly.

“Ah – now, you see, that’s why I hired you as my secretary – I knew you were resourceful, Miss Tula!” He chuckled.

“And, Mr Cobblepot – before you know it, you will be drinking strong black coffee again – I swear as God is my witness, I shall bring you over to the dark side with me!”

“You will?” he responded with his trademark throaty, husky laugh.  “Then that really **would** be something to see, Miss Tula!”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	16. Miss Tula tells Mr Cobblepot About Her Favourite Animal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A silly bit of fluff about Miss Tula's love of Penguins - wet and dry

**Miss Tula tells Mr C about her favourite animal**

“You know, Oswald, I actually don’t know why I objected to that insolent delivery man likening you to a penguin.”  Taran was reflecting quietly on her little misdemeanour, which had resulted in a delivery man being stretchered off to hospital with a broken leg.  

Up until that point, she had never done anything as violent as that.  Part of her had felt bad, but a huge part of her had felt exhilarated, liberated, and vindicated, for what better reason for such an act than the defence of her beloved Oswald?  After all – he had been absent at the time, and it had almost felt like the delivery man was stabbing him in the back! And that kind of treachery couldn’t be overlooked.

“Did he?” Oswald smirked.  “So that was why you assaulted him, was it?  Oh, Miss Tula! Well, I guess that is my nickname.  I earned it – and so I learnt to embrace it, and so, my dear Miss Tula, should you!”

“I know, I know,” she agreed contritely.  “But anyway, Oswald –as I was saying, I realise that I really shouldn’t have taken exception to him calling you that.  Did I ever tell you that the penguin has always been one of my favourite animals?”

“Why, no – you never did!”  He gave her that big, beaming grin.

“Well, they are!”

His smile widened.  “Well, I am very pleased to hear it!  It is good to hear that someone has such a fondness for my ‘blood relatives’,” he chuckled.

“I love the way they waddle around on land (so cute, the way they walk!)  and then, when they get into the water – they are so fast and graceful! And – there was one occasion, when I was at a bird sanctuary, and there was a penguin enclosure – and all the little penguins were taking it in turns to jump into the pool…..”she paused.

“Yes?” he smiled, encouraging her to continue.

“Well, the last one to go in turned and looked right at me –and he had a look as if to say, ‘Are you watching?  Cos this is gonna be AWESOME! The best dive ever!” And then he dived – and it was a perfect dive, just beautiful!   So graceful. He hardly rippled the water as he plunged in! I am sure he was deliberately showing off to me. Does that sound silly to you?”

“No, no, not at all!” he said warmly.

“Now please don’t laugh – but in a way, he kind of reminds me of – well, of you!”  She blushed.

“Me?!”  He laughed.  “Why?”

“Well, because you give me the same look sometimes.  When you are going to come out with something genius – or witty – or cute.  Or all three! There is the same look on your face.”

He grinned.  “Well, I am glad you can make out the family resemblance!”

“I am glad you see it that way!”

“Well what about the way I walk?”

“Well,” she said, “Don’t get me wrong – I hate what Fish Moonie did to you, it was vicious and uncalled for.”

“Well, I don’t think she would see it that way – but anyway, thank you for the sympathy!” he chuckled.

“And I hate to think of the pain it causes you.    But…”

“Yes?”  He sounded much softer now, much more receptive.

“Well – it is part of you.  Part of who and what you are.  I love the way you walk, Mr Cobblepot! It’s your own signature gait!”

“You know,” he replied, with a hint of a sigh in his voice, “That is singularly the most gracious thing anyone has ever said to me!”

  
  
  
  
  



	17. Taran Goes Too Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taran gives Oswald a massage, with surprise results

**Taran goes too far….**

One day, Taran had noticed that Oswald was sitting very stiffly – more so than usual, that is - at his desk when going through his papers – papers he was so grateful to her for organising for him so neatly and so logically.

He sat there, hunched up, shuffling away, frowning, and was clearly rather tense and stressed.

“Oswald – are you all right?” she had ventured to ask him.  She had ‘ventured’ because usually, when he was in the middle of something like this, he hated to be interrupted or disturbed.  His usual reaction was petulance - he would say “Oh what now? Can’t you see I’m busy?” and his eyes would flash that warning flash, before realising it was her who had spoken, and switching almost instantaneously to his ‘sweet and patient Ozzy’ mode.  But still, she liked to respect his need for peace and quiet in order to concentrate on what he was doing.

But this time he didn’t even raise his voice – or his head.  She realised that there really was something up with him this time.

“I think, between you and me, that this is all just getting a little too much for me, Taran!” he had sighed fatalistically.

“Too much? For you?  Surely not!” she had said, walking over to him and laying a comforting hand on his hunched shoulder.

He had turned his head and smiled up at her, putting his hand on hers.  “Don’t think I’m not grateful for your confidence in me!” he’d said. “But I think the Penguin has bitten off more than he can swallow this time!”

“But why?” she said, crouching down next to his chair and gazing up at him.  She wanted to take the subservient position, looking up at him with respect. She knew from experience that he liked this.  It had the desired effect.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he smiled, “I am probably just overtired! I’ve been working hard on this scheme, as you know.  I just don’t want it to fail!”

“And it won’t!” she said emphatically.  “Not with you in charge!”

He smiled even more broadly, his eyes lighting up like those of a child who has been praised by a favourite teacher.  Indeed, she had come to know that in many ways, he was little more than a child who needed validation. And she was glad to give it to him.  

“Thank you!” he said.  “Of course – you are right!”

Then she had had an idea.  She hoped it would go down well with him.  He did seem to be very receptive to suggestions at the moment….

“Actually, Oswald – I think what you could do with,” she said, raising herself up again and putting both her hands firmly on his shoulders, “Is a good neck rub!”

“A good what?”  He had looked and sounded astonished.  No-one had offered him anything like that before!

“A nice neck and shoulder massage!  It will take all those pent-up tensions away!”

“It will?”  He still sounded incredulous, and almost scared.  His eyes became wide and huge with alarm. This did nothing to make him less attractive to her, of course.

“Oh, yes, Oswald.  I absolutely guarantee it!” she persisted.  She had come this far – she would now have to go with it….and hope for the best.

“Hmmmmm,” he had mused, looking a little reluctant, clearly not sure if he was prepared to let her have such a level of physical contact with him.

“I will be very careful, Oswald!  I promise it won’t hurt!”

“Oh, believe me – pain would not be an issue for me!” he reflected with a bitter laugh.   She gave a little inward sigh of agreement. Indeed, he would have been through a lot of pain and torture in his life!  Still, the last thing  **she** wanted to do was hurt him.

“But you don’t want to be touched?  It’s perfectly all right if you don’t  - please, just be honest with me!”

“Ah  - you don’t think I’m being honest with you?”  he suddenly sounded very defensive, almost dangerously so, and his eyes began to darken.   Warning bells sounded in her head – she knew that look! She had to remind herself that his potential for turning quickly from nice to nasty was a very real part of his personality that she had to be extremely wary of – and deal with in her own inimitable way.

“No, no, I’m not saying that , Oswald,” she replied hastily, in soothing, placating tones.  “I am just saying that you obviously just want to spare my feelings. You are always polite and considerate towards me!  And I’m also saying that it’s absolutely fine to refuse if you really don’t feel comfortable with me touching you in such a way.  I will respect that.”

“Ah,” he smiled, his eyes shining again.  “Well I am most relieved that you didn’t think I wasn’t being entirely straightforward with you.  As you know, that is  **not** the way I operate!”  He grinned.

“No – of course not!” she said reassuringly.

“Well, if it will make  **you** feel better - I suppose we can give it a try!” he said magnanimously.

“Well, as long as you are sure – if at any time you don’t feel comfortable, please let me know!  I will stop immediately.”

“I am sure that issue will not raise its ugly head, Miss Tula.  Well, what would you like me to do? Where do you want me?”

She instructed him to stay just how he was on the chair –she wouldn’t risk suggesting him lying down just yet – if ever! -  and to unfasten his shirt collar – just to make himself feel more comfortable. She wasn’t sure if he would let her touch his bare skin, so she began by kneading his neck gently through his shirt.  He really did feel very tense! There were so many knots there. She wondered how many of these were genuine knots from stress and how many were from old injuries that hadn’t healed.

He gave a little groan of appreciation.  “Oh, Taran, you are right - I am starting to feel better already!” he murmured, after only a little time.

“Oh, I am so glad, Oswald!” she said - she was relieved in more ways than one!  She really wanted to please him for his sake as well as for her own safety.

Then he said something she hadn’t expected from him.

“You are quite welcome to put your hands  **inside** the shirt, you know!”

“Oh!  Are you sure?” She was both afraid and delighted about this prospect – in equal measure.

“Yes, of course – I trust you not to commit any impropriety!” he chuckled.

(“Oh my – he really  **is** loosening up!” she thought.)

So she did as he commanded – as she always did.  She was only too happy to oblige him – and couldn’t wait to get her hands on him, either.

She was so glad that he couldn’t read her mind and the impurity of her thoughts!

His neck did have some scar tissue, apparently from recent injuries – she could feel them as soon as she touched his bare skin.  She didn’t dare ask how he got them, and he didn’t make a whimper as she kneaded and rubbed the affected areas. He was indeed quite impervious to pain!

The temptation to lean down and kiss that neck, kiss those scars all better again, was tremendous, and she had to fight to stop herself.

He must have sensed her trepidation, for he said, “What is it?  Are your hands getting tired already?”

In her reverie, she had unconsciously relaxed her grip on him.

“Oh – no!  I was just trying to be gentle,” she lied.

“Well don’t worry  - you really can’t hurt me, you know!  Dig in!” he said brightly.

He continued to encourage her to go harder and harder with her technique, then to move lower to work on his shoulder muscles.

“Oh yes – now that is really, really wonderful!” he enthused as she went deeper and deeper with her hands….

Then suddenly, “Stop!” he cried, moving away from her in panic.  He jumped up from his chair and stood with his back to her, breathing hard.

“Oh Oswald – what’s the matter? What have I done?”   She stood there helplessly, not daring to move. She must have gone too far!  She should have known that this was a bad idea!

“It’s  - nothing, you’ve done nothing, I just have to…go….” he stammered, and limped from the room as fast as he could.

 

Oswald went straight to his room and closed and locked the door.  He stood there for a while with his back to the door, gasping and panting with panic.  His heart was racing and his palms were sweating!

 

He just couldn’t believe it!  He hadn’t thought it possible….How had it happened?!

  
  
  



	18. Taran's Dance of Contrition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taran confesses to Oswald about her initial deception by dancing.
> 
> This chapter is set before she moves into the mansion with him, but after he has started to know and trust her.
> 
> It is totally out of sync, and the continuity of the story seems to have gone haywire. That's because I wrote each chapter as separate scenes and this needs to be corrected. Meanwhile I hope you can put up with the lack of continuity and appreciate the chapters as individual works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The track our little Taran dances to is called 'My Name is Ruin' from the album Savage by Gary Numan. 
> 
> You Tube link here:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mvjv0TrSBzU
> 
> I am attempting to choreograph this dance. I will perform it and share when it is ready.
> 
> I am working on other dances too, including one to 'The End of Things' (Cobblepot's Theme), from the same Numan album.

**Taran’s Dance of Contrition**

Taran was determined to make some measure of confession to Oswald, but couldn’t bring herself to say it with words.  She wanted to be far more subtle than that.   So instead,  she planned to convey her message to him through music and dance – her favourite medium.  

Although she didn’t really want him to guess what she was telling him, she wanted to atone in some way for lying to him.  She knew that sounded ridiculous in her head, but deep down, in her heart, it made perfect sense.

“You want to do a dance on the opening night?”  He looked more than a little surprised.  This was the last thing he expected from his supposedly-prissy secretary.  

“Erm – but, Miss Tula - we have  **professional** dancers for that!”  he told her with a stiff smile.

She sighed and smiled warmly in response.  “Yes, I know that,” she replied deferentially, “And I know that I am  not a professional dancer.  But I can dance!    And I would do nothing  to jeopardise the reputation of your club - you know that, right?”

He pursed up his lips, ready to argue, but it had then occurred to him that she might have a point!  So he changed his expression in a split second, as he was wont to do.

She had not let him down one iota since being in his employ and he was coming to trust her.   She was becoming his ‘right hand man’, so to speak.  So maybe he should give her a chance….

“Of course!” he replied, with exaggerated wide eyed indignation.  

“So….can I dance on opening night then?”  Her eyes were suddenly alight with hope.  He knew now that he had no choice.

“Oh well – I suppose I might be persuaded….” he sighed fatalistically,  rolling his eyes with mock exasperation.  

“Oh, thank you so much, Os...Mr Cobblepot!  I won’t let you down – I promise!” she smiled with deep gratitude.

“No, no, I’m sure you wouldn’t!”  he agreed hastily.  “But…..”

“But?”

“But….you will still have to audition, Miss Tula….” 

“Audition?”

“Yes - just for me. I’m sure it will just be a formality….”

As the big day got nearer, Taran felt increasingly afraid.

It began to dawn on her that she actually felt far more nervous at the thought of showing him the dance in private than performing it in front of a whole room full of strangers!

All those other people, those other eyes, didn’t matter.  They meant nothing to her.  But his reaction, and his opinion, meant a great deal.

He had asked for this private audience solely because he wanted to make sure of her.  Although he was coming to appreciate her loyalty and was even starting to extend the hand of friendship, business was business after all.  He had to build and protect his reputation as a successful nightclub owner.  

A private audience between a man and a woman might also suggest something other than purely professional.   However, in Oswald’s case this was clearly not applicable.  She was not to be that kind of ‘private dancer’.  He had made it clear that his intentions towards her were completely honourable – although, of course, this fact disappointed more than consoled her.

But if he were actually to guess – to get the subtle message in the song she had chosen and in her interpretation – who knew where that might lead?  At the least, their special connection might be irreversibly damaged, broken, forever.   And at worst, he would be forced to do something he would very much regret, but would have to do anyway.  He hated betrayal more than anything - and he didn’t forgive it.  She knew that was how her dear Oswald operated –he had shared that with her in his darker moments, of which there had been many.

She knew that he was capable of great violence when he was provoked, and although she hadn’t yet been on the receiving end of it - so far, he had been gentle and generous to a fault - it didn’t mean that she never would be. 

She might not even make it to opening night!  But she was prepared to take this risk for him.

There she was….standing completely still.

She was dressed in black.  Her face was masked and hooded.  This was not the woman he knew!   He wondered for a moment if she had replaced herself with a masked, hooded doppelganger.

He sat there….waiting.  He was transfixed like a rabbit in headlights.  He was anxious, almost panicked by this situation….but he had to see if this was for real or not…. to find out if this was ‘his’ Miss Tula..his Taran….or not….

And so, the scene was set.

The music began.  He had never heard this track before.  It sounded very sinister and eerie...and quite beautiful….

His spine tingled.  He dared not breathe.

He waited still.

She stood there still.  She seemed far from him, even though she was really only a few feet away.  

She raised her arms and then lowered them slowly.

Then suddenly, she began walking forward toward him.

She kept on walking.

He had never seen dancers do this before.

He had the jitters.  He couldn’t move. He didn’t quite know why….

This was not just a dance.   It was language!   She was speaking to him without saying a single word.   But still, she had not revealed her face.  He had to see what was behind the mask!  He began to wonder if this really was her after all.  Maybe she had been joking with him and she had put a professional dancer in her place….

She stood before him on the stage, raised up above him.  Now he could look up to her and see her in her full persona….her other guise, the skin she had put on for this special performance, the show that no-one else would be allowed to see.

Taran stood there before him quaking inside.  She wanted so much to impress him...but also, to confess to him.  This would be her way of atoning for what she saw as her own transgression committed against this ‘sweet criminal’.  

He had said that he had seen the honesty in her eyes the moment he had met her, when he had interviewed her – she had not been anything like that band of sycophantic fools he had seen before her.

She had almost bungled the interview.  But apparently, he had taken to her right away.  He had sensed what she had really wanted– that she had his very best interests at heart.

This had been so true.

She had expected to be confronted by a monster, or at the very least, a tyrant – but instead, she had met with a small, funny, dapper man.  He had said, “Excuse me, little person,” before she had gone in for interview, and then later, she had walked into the room.  She had frowned in recognition,  and he had said, “Oops!  Excuse  **me!”** and shrugged sheepishly.  He had clearly not recognised that she was an interview candidate, and his little joke had backfired on him.

And then, she had looked into his face, surveying him more closely,  and noticed  the prettiest blue eyes she had ever beheld, with the longest, darkest lashes.  This had taken her breath away.  

It had made her hands shake, her palms sweat  and her heart race. This was not just interview nerves.

He had been nothing like what had been described to her.  People had been so unkind.   They had used words like ‘creep’ and ‘freak’.  But to her eyes, he looked cute….so handsome….

He had been given the nickname ‘Penguin’, and she was also told that he was ‘cold-blooded’.  But Penguins were warm-blooded, and his persona to her was far from being icy.  He was clearly passionate and excitable.  His actions were animated.  He was a small bundle of nervous energy, his hands and lips working fretfully as he spoke.  He had a sweet little mouth, which pursed up when he was impatient and tightened into a thin line when he was annoyed.   She found that adorable!

He was witty, charismatic and clearly very bright.

In short – she had fallen for this enigmatic little man almost immediately.

She couldn’t believe that she was supposed to infiltrate his organisation, whatever that was, and give away his secret plans, whatever they were, to the Gotham City Police Department.  She only knew that she felt very well disposed towards him!  And before the interview even began, she realised that she would not be able to betray this beautiful man.

She had dropped her briefcase at the end of the interview, which she felt had gone really  badly because of her nerves.  The lock burst and the contents went everywhere….

Then she lost her temper completely.  She knew she had blown it and she threw caution to the wind.

She went into a full-scale rant, berating herself for her clumsiness, falling to her knees and snatching up the stray papers from the floor, screwing them up and stuffing them back into her case haphazardly.   She totally forgot where she was and who was in the room with her.

“Erm.. Miss Tula..have you quite finished?”

She looked up and there he was, staring down at her, arms folded neatly in front of him, with an amused glint in his bright blue eyes.

“Erm….yes…sorry….” She had blushed hotly with intense embarrassment.

“Never mind.”  He had sighed emphatically, rolled his eyes and pursed up his lips, and looked skywards as if consulting the heavens about what to do about her.  

Then he had surprised her completely by struggling down onto his own knees beside her and helping her clean up the mess.

And on the way down, as he had clearly been in pain and discomfort with his lame leg, he had made a little quip about it.  “This is such a drag!”  he had said, tapping his right thigh apologetically, and then, “Oops!  No pun intended!” he had added, grinning impishly.

Her heart had gone out to him, there and then.  She had experienced such mixed feelings!  Part of her wanted him to reject her, because she didn’t want to be part of the GCPD’s plan; but part of her wanted so badly for him to ask  her to stay! She so wanted to see him again.

But fate had had other things in store for her.  He had wanted her, despite her apparent shortcomings.

He had told her later that she had been the most sincere, genuine candidate he had seen that day.  The fact that they had shared a rather amusing head bump as he had tried to help her pick up her papers had not disadvantaged her; the very opposite, in fact.  He had been weary of those other super-efficient, over-eager-to-please types that had come before her.  She had been the real article.

And he had been right, for what she had told him in her eyes had been true.  She had always wanted   the best for him!  But in her heart she had wanted to put him away, for her contacts in the GCPD had told her that this was the safest option for him.  And she had believed them.  For what better place could there be for Oswald than a prison cell?  He would be so much better off there, where no-one could get to him and hurt him!

But now, she wasn’t so sure.  She wasn’t convinced that a jail cell would keep him safe - and anyway, it would be so cruel to lock him up like that.  Such confinement would only present a living death for a bright spark like her boy.  She was more sure that she was best placed to protect him from danger.  And so she would make sure that she would mislead the GCPD and keep them away from her sweet little Cobblepot for as long as possible – until they needed to help his cause, of course!

She had the wherewithal to make sure that he wouldn’t be hurt.    She knew that he had the capacity to get himself into a great deal of trouble – he could talk too much sometimes  with that pretty mouth of his -  although  his own quick thinking,  along with sheer good luck - and occasionally Jim Gordon, who she was grateful to and angry with in equal measure - had helped him escape and survive in these times of crisis.  But she wanted so much to be the one to look after him, and to ensure that his enemies didn’t touch a hair on that lovely raven black head of his - for one day, surely even his luck could run out....

And now there he sat, gazing up at her silently with his wide, glistening eyes – clearly transfixed and mesmerised.  Her heart was in her mouth!  He looked so beautiful…. 

“It’s now or never, Taran Tula!” she thought.  She took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and commenced her dance of contrition.


	19. After the Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened after Taran danced for Oswald

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it would be intriguing for Oswald and Taran to conduct their conversation through their reflections in the mirror. After I wrote this I saw the scene with Jerry the punk and Bruce which was a little similar.

**After the Show**

She had scrambled to her feet, muttering frantic apologies, and had disappeared into the wings like a shadow, before he had chance to speak - to give any kind of reaction at all.  She had been there, kneeling, hands clasped tightly and head bowed before him – as the music had died. She had clearly been seeking his forgiveness, his mercy – for something.

Now he just had to figure out what the hell that was!  He certainly couldn’t think of any good reason for it. She had been nothing but loyal, protective, caring and steadfast in all the time he had known her.

One thing was for certain – she had blown him away with her performance!  It was so rare for him to be lost for words but this was clearly one of those times….

Taran dashed into the dressing-room and sat down before the mirror, grabbing hold of her jar of face cream and a handful of tissues, and then began frantically wiping off her make-up – the mask she had put on for this performance only, the mask that she had thought might help reveal who – and what - she truly was.

She couldn’t wait to shake off this persona.  She was sure that she had actually frightened him!  As she had glanced down at the end, he had been sitting on the edge of his seat, clearly unable to move, his eyes so big and bright with fear, but still with a hint of that kind of mad excitement that was always present in his gaze.   She had almost confessed to him in words right there and then.

So she had had no option but to leave right away and leave him to his thoughts – and wait for the curtain – and possibly for the axe - to fall. 

“Knock knock!” she heard him call as he tapped tentatively on the door of her dressing room.

“Who is it?” she asked, completely unnecessarily.

“It’s me – Mr Co – erm, Oswald.  May I come in?”

“Yes – come in!” she replied, trying not to sound at all nervous, despite her detection of the hint of trepidation present in  **his** tone.

She turned back to the mirror, continuing frantically to wipe the makeup from her eyes – she had really gone to town on that kohl and mascara, and hadn’t realised how difficult it would be to get it all off her skin….

He opened the door slowly and came in.  She watched him through the mirror to try and gauge his mood and his response to her performance.  He stood by the doorway for a moment, apparently taking in the scene before him, taking in her and what she was doing, and then came forward, hobbling slowly, and ending up standing right behind her.  He placed his hands gently on the back of her chair, taking obvious care not to touch her as he did so.

She raised her head slowly, cautiously, and then her reflected gaze met his.

To her surprise and intense relief, she saw no signs of anger or disappointment – or, even more importantly, danger - there.  Instead, she saw a measure of confusion – and a little curiosity – but a great deal of pride. His eyes were shining down at her like big blue stars!   This brought a lump to her throat, made her heart skip a beat, and also gave her some courage.

“So – what did you think?  Did I pass the audition?” she asked brightly, with an encouraging smile.

“Well, I will say this, Miss Tu-Taran - you certainly got my attention!”  He leaned forward toward her meaningfully and smirked.

“Oh –  what, in a good or a bad way?” she retorted, spurred on to bravery by his playful manner.

“Oh – good, definitely!” he reassured her, nodding away and speaking in that trade mark breathless, staccato way of his, with his little tight lipped smile.   “A bit - well, scary, if I’m honest - but - nevertheless - very good!” He chuckled manically. 

Then he suddenly stopped laughing and looked deadly earnest.

“But..seriously….Miss Tula….where did you learn to dance like that?”  His eyes were wide with fascination and his voice was full of incredulity.

“Oh - I went to ballet classes when I was young.  And..well, I just love music, and I love to dance. Always have, ever since I can remember!”

“Ah, ballet - then that explains the mime.  It was very impressive! Not that I can pretend to know all of it, but….the clasped hands, Miss Tula….I assume that meant mercy?”

She stopped what she was doing and looked back at him in the mirror, studying his eyes.  There was mild curiosity there, but nothing dangerous as far as she could see.

“Yes,” she said quietly.  “That’s right.”

“Now what?” she thought, expecting him to quizz her further about it, but instead he said, “Ah, I thought so - it was very well done, Miss Tula.  You have another hidden talent that I wasn’t aware of. I must add it to your resume!”

“Thank you,” she smiled, breathing again, and she went back to wiping the makeup from her eyes.  She wondered if all this blackness would ever budge….

“I think you will be the star attraction on opening night, Miss Tula,” he grinned.  

“Oh – Mr Co – Oswald – do you mean it?  Oh, that’s great! Thank you so much!” she gushed, all inhibitions suddenly gone, and she got up from her chair and,  before she realised what she was doing, threw her arms around his neck and planted a big, emphatic kiss on his cheek.

“Now now, Miss Tula, steady on!” he said, giggling nervously, and pushing her away gently, and she then realised that she had overstepped the mark. 

“Oh – Os - Mr Cobblepot, I’m sorry – I don’t know what came over me!” she said, blushing hotly.

“Think nothing of it.  You were excited, that’s all!”  He beamed down at her to give the impression that he was indeed a beneficent and generous employer – although not that free and easy with his affections.

“Yes, that was it.  I was….erm, excited.  Anyway – thank you!” she said humbly.

“Don’t mention  it. And now I will leave you to finish your …..erm…..ablutions!”  He glanced over her fleetingly then turned and hobbled away quickly.

 

Once clear of the scene, Oswald limped off to find somewhere private to reflect on his thoughts.

He went to his office and closed and locked the door.

He sat down in his chair and mused on what had just come to pass.

He had been really taken aback at being grabbed and kissed like that so impetuously.

This had never happened to him before in that context.

It had been the warmest, sincerest demonstration of affection he had received for quite a while.  In fact, if he was honest, it was the sweetest, most genuine gesture he had ever known from anyone except his mother.

He got up and walked over to the mirror on his office wall.  He always had to make sure that he looked neat and tidy for receiving important visitors.  And for his own high standards of appearance, of course. He had to have time to preen.

He saw the lipstick mark on his cheek and produced the pristine royal blue silk square from his breast pocket.  He wiped the mark off slowly and deliberately and then held the handkerchief up to his nose, inhaling the faint scent he could still detect on there - left behind by her loving lips.

He unlocked his desk drawer, folded the handkerchief up and then placed it carefully into the drawer.  He closed the drawer and locked it, storing this treasure along with other secret keepsakes he stored there to cheer himself up on a rainy day.

  
  
  
  



	20. Coat in the Act!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Tula can't resist checking out Mr Cobblepot's wardrobe....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Oswald's beautiful fur-lined coat, but I think of the fur as black down feathers, and so, apparently, does Miss Tula - and this brings out her feral feelings for her gorgeous employer and companion....for which, I don't blame her!

**Coat in the Act!**

 

“Miss Tula!  What are you doing?!”

 

She had been caught in the act.

 

She just wanted to hold it in her arms - to feel it against her skin.  She was burying her face in the soft downy collar when he came in and found her.

 

It was such a beautiful coat!

 

She flinched and looked startled but held on tightly to the garment.  She stroked the material distractedly as she answered.

 

“Sorry, I just wanted to….”  He hobbled forward quickly and grabbed hold of the coat.  He tugged it away from her and she let it go reluctantly.

 

“You’re not supposed to even be in here!”  His eyes flashed indignantly. He clutched the coat against his chest possessively.

 

“I know...I..I’m sorry….”

 

“Never come in here again without my  **express** permission!  Do you hear me, Miss Tula?”

 

His mouth was drawn into a tight, petulant line and his eyes were burning into hers like blue fire.

 

She reflected that she was probably lucky just to get a ticking off for her indiscretion.  She was sure he had killed people for less.

 

“He really must be warming to me!” she thought.  And of course - those eyes! They were stunning….

 

She said - very deferentially - “Of course not, Mr Cobblepot.  It was unforgiveable of me. It won’t happen again!” She bowed her head in shame.

 

“Ppft!”  he scowled.

 

“No, really…..it won’t.  I promise….”

 

“Well it had better not. Or ...there will be  **consequences!** ” He gave her his best threatening stare and snarl. 

 

She flinched and blinked in response.  He was so formidable when he was angry….and, of course, frightening….but, she still knew, of course, that she had got off lightly…….and he looked gorgeous in his intensity too.

 

She  felt her body tremble and tingle with nervous excitement.  She was tongue-tied and could only look back at him remorsefully.

 

He sighed.  “Well then - off you go.”   He waved his hand at her dismissively and gave her his little tight-lipped smile of forced patience.   Despite her sadness she had to admit that she loved that look.

 

She turned and began walking away, but he suddenly called her back.

 

“Miss Tula - just a moment…”

 

She stopped and turned around, looking at him quizzically.

 

His look of anger had gone but it had been replaced with something far worse.  It was deep disillusionment. 

 

“Miss Tula - I trusted you and so I didn’t bother to lock my bedroom door - or any door in this great big house of mine.  I trusted you and so I let you have the run of the place.” He sounded wounded….and she was gutted….at least, metaphorically….

 

She swallowed hard.  “You…. **trusted** me?””

 

“Yes, but I said trust **ED** \- past tense, Miss Tula.  Now you have forced me to rethink my opinion - at least, for a while.  This is  **very** disappointing, Miss Tula.”

 

“Oh,” she said quietly.  She didn’t know what else to say!

 

She had lost his trust…the trust she had worked so hard to earn, and she never even realised  that she’d been granted. He knew how to hurt her. He might just as well have plunged a knife into her heart - or gutted her like a fish.

 

And all because she had to touch that coat!  Her feral instincts had probably ruined any chance of getting close to him…. 

 

She should be grateful that he was even prepared to give her another chance...if that was indeed what he actually was going to do.

 

“Is that all, Mr Cobblepot?” she resumed, anxious to break the deafening silence that followed.

 

“Yes, Miss Tula.  It is,” he replied flatly.  He stroked the collar of the coat in a protective way as he spoke.

 

“Then please can I speak?  I just want to explain….”

 

He rolled his eyes and pursed up his lips.  “Tsk! Honestly, Miss Tula! Oh, well...go on then, but make it quick!”  His hand continued stroking the coat slowly and rhythmically.

 

“Thank you - you are very kind to hear me out.  Mr Cobblepot - I can only say - I am so sorry to disappoint you.  I was so happy when you asked me to come and live here with you. I hope you can believe that.  And….”

 

“And?”  He sounded, and looked, a little softer.  It encouraged her to go on.

 

“And - I know it doesn’t excuse what I did, it was wrong, and an invasion of your privacy.  But - I love the way you dress and I just wanted to see inside your wardrobe. And I couldn’t find you to ask your permission but I just couldn’t wait.  I was too impatient! I was so curious. And...Mr Cobblepot...I...I just  **love** that coat!  It is so exquisite. And you look  **so** handsome in it….” The words tumbled out of her mouth breathlessly and she suddenly stopped, realising what she had said.

 

She had zoned out during her little speech, unable to look him in the eyes..she had spoken to his smart, shinily-shod feet….

 

“Uh-oh,” she thought.  “I’ve really gone and done it now!”  She had at least managed to stop herself telling him how she had wanted to smell the coat, to enjoy his warm scent, which she was about to do when he had walked in on her.

 

When she raised up her head and then focussed on his face she expected to see at the very least a look of impatience, of forced tolerance; but instead, she saw a wry smile and a glint of mischief in his blue eyes.

 

“You think I look ‘handsome’ in it?  Really, Miss Tula?” His tone was teasing and playful - gently mocking.  It was almost flirtatious!

 

She blushed.  “Yes….yes, I do...Mr Cobblepot..erm, sir…” she faltered.

 

“Well - I’ve heard it all now.  I must add ‘sense of humour’ to your resume!”  She went to interrupt, to tell him she really had meant what she’d said -  but he held up his hand, stopping her dead. ”Goodnight, Miss Tula,” he said firmly.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Out of order again. Miss Tula is evidently now living with Oswald! Another continuity error I need to correct. I hope you can stay with this!


	21. Fish Out of Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald tracks Taran down to an out of town club where she has been secretly 'moonlighting', determined to find out what is going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just added this chapter. I have had the scene in my head for a while, and even though I meanwhile finished the story I still wanted to include this little scene. I hope it shows how they feel about each other - Miss Tula loves to dance, but she loves Oswald even more.  
> Soundtrack to this chapter: Risingson, Massive Attack.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=85E9Q5Wx210
> 
> This track is about clubbers and clubbing and the seamier side of nightlife and I thought it might reflect Oswald's feelings about the club and his jealousy about her dance partner.

**A Fish Out of Water.**

 

Oswald felt really out of place here with his smart formal clothes and heavy winter coat.

 

This place was noisy.  He hated this kind of club!    It was a converted warehouse and it was dark and dingy with flashing strobes that made him feel somewhat dizzy and almost nauseous.

 

He limped to the ticket desk and when challenged to pay entry he rapped his cane indignantly  on the counter and declared sternly, “I am Oswald Cobblepot and I demand the right to enter!”

 

There were two heavies on the door who had plainly not heard of him.  Their insolence left him speechless. They each took an arm and frog marched him, protesting violently, back to the entrance, then pushed him outside and shoved him roughly onto the pavement.  He fell rather gracelessly, his cane clattering across the path in front of him.

 

Oswald lay there for a moment bristling and gnashing his teeth.  The fall had hurt him but he felt more embarrassment and shame than pain.

 

Then he shivered as he realised just how cold it was out here.  He slowly pulled himself to his feet and limped over and retrieved his stick.

 

His first thought was to go straight back in and run them through with the spike inside his cane, but then he thought of the mess and the fuss, which wouldn’t be good for Miss Tula - if she was in there.  

 

But he didn’t give up.  He tried again, this time with false apologies and smiles and copious amounts of money.

 

Plan B worked a treat.

 

He dusted himself down and went through into the club, hoping to keep his regained dignity intact.

 

He stood in the shadows by the wall, craning his neck to see if he could spy Miss Tula.  There were pulsating bodies everywhere and he could smell fresh sweat. Clearly, the night was still young.  

 

Most clubbers were wearing t shirts and loose-fitting pants but there were one or two that had made an effort to dress up - although he could barely call it dressing….

 

The dance floor was full. Oswald stood by the wall entranced in a morbidly-fascinated way.  This was not his usual hangout - but it would be worth slumming it if he could finally see where Miss Tula was spending her clandestine evenings.  He needed to know!

 

He hoped Gabe was right.  He had got Butch Gilzean’s son on the case.  They had better not be wasting his time!

 

Gabe had said to come with him, but somehow, he felt that he had to do this alone.  The limo had dropped him off at the corner of the street and the driver had strict instructions to wait for as long as was needed.

 

Then suddenly he saw her.  His Miss Tula. She was like an apparition!

 

The way she was dressed - in those tight leggings and spider motif t shirt - he had never seen her dress that way before.  And the way she was dancing - it just took his breath away!

 

He knew she could dance - she had even done a private audition,  just for him, and she had impressed him then - even frightened him a little too, with her sinister mime, but nevertheless, he had seen how incredible her talent was.

 

But the way she was moving now - the expression on her face!  She was transported, as if she was on a different planet. She was loving her dance, and feeling the music - not that he would call it that exactly, but anyway, the beat was mesmerising.  

 

It was as if she was an alien in his world - and HE was an alien in hers.

 

His heart turned over, and then sank like a stone.

 

She looked beautiful out there - and she looked happy - without him!  He felt his eyes start to sting.

 

Then she started to dance with a partner - a male partner.  They were dancing quite close, although they weren’t touching each other.  Their moves were subtly sensual. Her partner was good-looking, graceful, lithe and young - everything Oswald felt that he wasn’t.  He suddenly felt old and ugly and out-of-place, an interloper. This had been such a bad idea!

 

But he was glued to the spot.  He nursed the glass of cheap whisky he’d felt obliged to buy just to keep his hands occupied - and the security guards off his back - while he stood and watched like a rabbit in headlights.

 

When she’d danced for him she had been different - more restrained, somehow, and now - now, she was showing him the real Miss Tula, the wild and free Taran, away from the mansion, away from him and his needs and demands.

 

Well, of course, he always wanted a measure of respect from her, and even though they had become much closer, there was still that slight amount of distance between them.  There probably always would be.

 

He couldn’t love her the way she wanted him to, but he felt such a strong affection - and he felt the bile rise in his throat, the jealous rage that he had to swallow down, now that he saw that she was having fun behind his back....

 

Should he confront her?  What good would that do, if she knew that he had stalked her, had her tracked down like an animal...but part of him longed to step onto that dance floor and tear her off a strip for her deception - and punish the guy who had the audacity to share her space.

 

But at least it was only dancing….she wasn’t betraying him, was she?  And he didn’t want to show himself up.

 

Then the two dancers got very close and the guy had his hands on Taran’s hips.  Oswald forgot all about his qualms about embarrassing himself. That man should not be touching Miss Tula in that lascivious way!  It was just so disrespectful….

 

He slammed down his glass and, forgetting his cane,  hobbled forward and on to the dancefloor. He shoved the other dancers aside and ignored their angry protests and insults as he propelled himself forward.

 

Miss Tula had her back turned to him but the guy dancing with her frowned and pointed  just as Oswald yelled, “Miss Tula!” and went to tap her on the shoulder.

 

She spun round.  Oswald’s finger was poised ready to tap her shoulder and he withdrew it immediately.

 

“Oswald!  What are you doing here?!” she shouted over the din.  She forgot all about her dance and her partner and moved forward, her astonished expression turning into a happy smile.  “Oswald!” she repeated, and she came forward and threw her arms around his neck.

 

He melted.  He embraced her back.  They stood there with the music blasting, and dancers dancing, leaving a small circle where boss and employee stood, holding one another and not caring about anyone else in that room.

 

“I’m sorry, Oswald,” she told him as they walked over to the bar together, her hand slipped through his arm to support him.  “I didn’t mean to deceive you. And Todd - that’s the guy I was dancing with - don’t worry about him.”

 

“You were getting pretty close.”

 

“It’s just dancing, Oswald.  We’re not romantically attached.  Anyway, you know my type by now.” She smiled meaningfully.  “Anyway - actually, dear - these little outings are partly to do with you, y’know.”  

 

“Me?  In what way?”  Oswald’s face took on a rosy glow.  She had called him ‘dear,’ which was quite normal for her ‘off duty manner’ of addressing him, but it still made him feel warm inside.  It made him feel that he was special to her again, not just a stuffy old employer checking up on his employee and interfering with her life.

 

“Well you know I love dancing, and I like to improve my steps as much as possible - for the routines I perform at your club.”

 

“Well, yes, but...well, Miss Tula, do you have to come to places like this to practice?  I mean - the noise - the music they play….”

 

“Well that’s just it - it’s such a different kind of club, it allows me to....well, challenge myself, the music is very fast, and it gives me the chance to stretch myself - so to speak, so I can be perfect for dancing at your club.”

 

“But why keep it a secret from me?”  Oswald felt his bottom lip coming out and heard a slight tremor in his voice.  He blinked hard.

 

“Oh - Ozzy!”  His heart missed a beat to hear her call him by his pet name.  He gulped as she touched him lightly on the chin and said, “I only wanted to surprise you!  And..well, I knew you’d worry about me coming here too.”

 

“Well, can you blame me? I mean - no offence, but the place is a dive and it’s hardly in a good neighbourhood...!”

 

“Oh, bless you, Oswald!  I knew you would worry. I took a cab,” she assured him, “and I was going to take one back too.  How did you get here, by the way? And - just a minute, where’s your cane? And - and your clothes - did you have an accident?!”   Her eyes opened wide with anxiety.

 

“I’m all right.  My cane is just over there, I left it behind when I...erm, came to find you.  And the limo brought me. It’s, erm, waiting outside, just around the corner….for discretion…...”  He bit his lip and looked away.

 

“Did someone here  hurt you, Oswald?”

 

“It’s fine.  Forget it, Miss Tula.”

 

“I don’t believe you.  It’s not fine. You’re being proud - I can see it in your eyes.  If those doormen so much as laid a finger on you…..don’t they know who you are, for God’s sake?!   They will pay! Oh, ahem, anyway, dear, for now, the important thing is to get you home….and I’m coming back with you too.  I’ve had enough of this place!” Taran went and retrieved Oswald’s stick and then took his arm and led him out of the club.

 

Oswald’s heart lifted.  He felt like singing - even dancing, with her, that’s if his leg would let him….

  
  
  


When they got outside, Oswald couldn’t help but remark on  Miss Tula’s unseasonable state of undress.

 

“Miss Tula  - you’re shivering!  Didn’t you bring a coat?”

 

“Oh, don’t worry Oswald - I didn’t bother with one, as I was getting a cab and anyway the club doesn’t have a cloakroom.”

 

“But you’ll catch your death, you little idiot!   Here, please, take my coat.”

 

“Oh, but then you’ll be cold…”

 

“Miss Tula!  I insist! Anyway - I know how much you love this coat.  It’s your favourite, right? Don’t you want to put it on?”  He raised his eyebrow meaningfully.

 

Taran couldn’t argue with that.  She really couldn’t refuse to wear Oswald’s very best coat - after all, he was right - it was her favourite!  Its downy collar was so soft and it smelt so strongly of him! Wearing it would be almost as good as being surrounded by his beautiful body.

 

She sighed contentedly as he helped her into it.  It was heavy and lined with silk - and covered in his sensual scent.

 

This was heaven!

 

And then, once they were safely inside the limo, he let her sit up close to him.   She risked putting her head on his shoulder. To her amazement and delight, he didn’t protest or shrug her off for being over-familiar.   Anything but! He put his arm around her protectively.

 

“There, there, Miss Tula - is that better?  Are you comfortable now? Are you warm enough?””

 

“Is the Pope a Catholic?” she thought to herself, and, “Oh yes, I’m much better, and very comfortable - and warm,  thank you,” she voiced. She snuggled in, making the most of this dreamy experience while it lasted.

Now she really was close to him - the closest she had ever been, and she was loving it! He smelt so amazing!

 

“Taran - dear - promise me you won’t go and dance at that despicable club ever again!”  Oswald urged, squeezing her shoulder gently. She could swear that there was the slightest trace of a tear in his tone.

 

“I promise, Oswald.  I’ll never go dancing there again.  You can rely on that!”

 

“Good,” he said softly.  “That puts my mind at rest, my dear.  Now, let’s go home.”

  
  


Taran was as good as her word.  She never went dancing there again.  But she couldn’t resist paying them one more visit.  She made it her business to find out who had hurt her beautiful Oswald, and made sure to settle the score.

  
  



	22. The Other Oswald

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feeling lonely and desperate in Oswald's absence, Taran hires a Cobblepot doppelganger to keep her company and warm her bed - with unpleasant consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack to this chapter: 'Something Bad on My Mind' - Marc Almond

**The Other Oswald.**

“Excuse me – don’t you know when to knock?!”

The other Oswald rose up from his bed – or rather, that of the real Oswald, who was out of town on business – and plunged into the role he was playing with more than a little vigour.

“Oh –Oswald!  I’m sorry! I really didn’t expect….”

“Well - surprise!”   Taran planted a kiss on Other Oswald’s cheek to enhance the effect.  He smiled coyly and looked bashful – mimicking the real Oswald to a tee.

“Now please leave – can’t you see we’re – erm - going over important business?!” he scowled.

When Ivy had left, feigning embarrassment as part of her role playing, the two of them collapsed in hysterics.  The situation was ludicrously and hilariously unreal. And truth be told, she knew that if she didn’t laugh she might be tempted to start crying and never stop!

“You were so cute when you told her off!” Taran said, stroking his bare shoulder and pretending to be very impressed with his performance.  “Very masterful!”

“I was, wasn’t I?”  He chuckled. He was so enjoying this part of playing the role – the lookalike agency had told him that he would never get work as an Oswald Cobblepot double, but look how wrong they had been!

“And you were very good at what we were doing before, too!” she said, as if to encourage him.

“Oh!”  He looked coy, as he had to remember he was still playing the part of a shy, virginal man who had never had any physical relations with a woman before.  That had been part of his brief.

“Oh indeed!  And you thought you wouldn’t be up to it!”

“How wrong can a boy be?” He shrugged and repeated the bashful smile. 

 

“Are you hoping to bed me, young lady?” he had said, pretending to be scandalised, when last night, she had sent numerous little signals that she wanted him to give one of the greatest performances of his life!

“Well, whatever gave you that idea?!” she had said coyly, provocatively stroking the newly-inked spider tattoo on her upper arm.

“Hmmm – now let me see – you left a trail of rose petals leading to my bed - and you left a note on  my pillow saying, “See you here soon, Oswald. Taran. Kiss kiss!” That, well, kind of gave me a subtle clue!”

“Subtlety is my game, Oswald!”

“And I do so like to play!”

“Oh – Oswald - you are such a bad boy!”

But in matters of the bedroom, her other Oswald, although different in telling ways from the original, had come on as gauche, shy and uncertain – which she was sure would be true of her real Oswald, had she had any chance of getting to know him ‘in the flesh’ so to speak….. which she was certain beyond a single doubt was completely impossible!    But she had thought that this would be the closest she would get to having any idea of what he was like. And sadly, she was convinced that this just was nowhere near close enough….

“Oh, am I?” her replica Oswald had beamed that pleased, surprised grin again.  He had practised that in front of a mirror many times to try and get the tone and expression just right.  “Well, it is very generous of you to say so!” he added. He did have to inject some modesty into his role, too – that had also been a very strict part of his brief.

A huge part of her felt so guilty about this – to the point of devastation.  He was really nothing like HER Oswald. He even smelt different - he smelt good, but he didn’t smell right!  Oswald had the scent of cedar and sandalwood –she knew he bathed every day in these oils, as she had seen them lined up on his bathroom cabinet – and she loved the way the fragrance lingered softly in the air long after he had left a room.

This version of Oswald smelt very different – more of musk and ginger, which was still very pleasant – but a bit overpowering, and, of course, nothing like HER Oswald’s own signature scent.

She so missed him!  This whole idea had been a terrible – a ghastly -  mistake….

 

“Erm – you know what – I really don’t think I need you for another day!” she said, getting up out of bed and throwing on her dressing-gown – and throwing off her role playing persona, once and for all.

Other Oswald looked somewhat disappointed.  He tried to purse up his lips in that other attitude he’d been told to practise, but this didn’t seem to have the desired effect.

“It’s ok – you’ll still get paid for the extra day!”

He relaxed and smiled his own smile again.  Truth be told, he was rather relieved not to have to play this Cobblepot guy any longer.  She had even made him limp around as she had said having two perfectly straight legs and a normal gait wasn’t what she wanted!  They had failed to tell him about this at the agency. What was her problem – really?! He had seen photos of Oswald Cobblepot and he felt he was much better looking than him!

And as for the hair – well, he’d be glad to brush his hair straight and have a normal style again.  What was with this ‘disco vamp’ thing this Cobblepot guy had going on?! The whole thing, as far as he was concerned, was twisted and kinky.  It was just as well that he was getting paid so handsomely for his trouble – and then some extra, for his silence!

So he just thanked her, got up, got dressed, took the cash and then walked away and out of her life forever – via the service entrance, of course.

Taran waited until he had left, then she sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling sick and on the verge of tears.  What had she done?! She had defiled the bed of the man she loved, and with someone who wouldn’t be able to hold up a lit match to him, let alone a candle! 

“Ivy!  Ivy!” she cried out, feeling herself starting to panic.  She was shaking all over and had broken out into a cold sweat.

She would ask Ivy to strip down the bed and prepare to burn all the sheets and pillowcases and then buy new ones – she couldn’t bear to touch them herself.  Obviously, she would have to get exact copies or there would be questions! This was all too cold-blooded - but then again, the whole process had been. She just wished that the memories of last night could be destroyed as easily.

What the hell had been her thinking?!  Loneliness without him, no matter how painful, and sleeping alone in her own bed down the hall would still have been a much better alternative than this….

She headed off for a long, long session in the shower, and to be at one with her self-loathing and her tears.  She hoped that she would be able to wash away the memory of what she had done.


	23. Oswald gets Nursed and Nagged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald falls ill with a fever and Taran tends to him, with Ivy's help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right. Now this is a chapter I wrote some time ago, before I knew about Ivy's rescue of Oswald and saw his cantankerous, ungrateful response - so now this seems a little inaccurate - but, given the way that he responds to Taran as he gets to know her, I think this softer version of him is perfectly possible - especially as he does have a very bad fever and is pretty helpless. Also it shows how someone else notices Taran's feelings for Oswald and they are blindingly obvious to everyone except him.

.

**Oswald gets nursed and nagged**

“Oswald – for God’s sake, you’re sick!  You  **have** to stay in bed!”

“But  - I have to....”

“No ‘buts’, Ozzy!  You need to rest!”

Taran put her hands on the Penguin’s forehead.

“Oh, Oswald – for goodness’ sake, you’re burning up like a furnace!”

Oh?  But – I have to get out of bed – otherwise, who will....”

“Oswald – I said,  **no buts** !  I will take care of things round here!  You need to get better!”

“Well – if you insist, then, “ he sighed with resignation.

Taran plunged the cloth into the cold iced water at the side of his bed.  She wrung it out and dabbed at his forehead, face and neck.  Then she poured out a glass of iced water for him to drink.  “I bet you are very thirsty, aren’t you?” she said, and, “Yes, I am!” he admitted, and so she passed him the glass and he drank deeply, draining the glass.  She poured him another.  He almost drained that too.

“I’ve had enough now – thank you!” he smiled.

“There’s a good boy!” she soothed.  “Now – don’t be anxious, I shall take care of everything for you!”

He looked up at her and smiled that sweet angelic  grin – the one that always served to turn her knees to water.

“You really are too good to me, you know!”

“It is no trouble at all - really!” she reassured him.

She mopped away at his brow again.

He sighed with contentment.  “You know –this almost makes being sick worthwhile!” He chuckled.

Meanwhile, Ivy had been hovering away furtively in the background, anxious to be of help.

“Taran,” she said tentatively, “Can I bring in some healing herbs and potions and plants for him?  It should help speed his recovery.”

“Oh, Ivy – would you?  That would be great!  Would you like that, Oswald?”

“Anything that would help me get out of my sickbed and back to my business faster would be very welcome – thank you ladies!” he said huskily.

He folded his hands together on top of the sheets, smiling in a catlike way, now resigned to enjoy the attention that was being heaped upon him by his ministering angels.

Once out of earshot,  Taran told Ivy just how grateful she was for her help.  “I hate to see him so unwell,” she said.  “He told me he hardly ever gets sick!”

“Yes, he told me that, too – I wonder where he picked this up from?”

“I can’t think!  But I do know this thing with Edward is still pretty raw with him – he mentions him rarely and when he does, never a sweet word passes his lips about him, but between you and me, Ivy – I think the gentleman doth protest too much!”

“Yes,  I think you are right!”

“Maybe this is all the result of – well, a broken heart!”

Ivy looked at her, studying her expression closely.  There was a tell-tale look in her eyes which gave away exactly what she had suspected about Taran for some time.

“You’re in love with Oswald – aren’t you?” she said.


	24. The Real Oswald Owns Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald makes a dark confession to Taran and she returns the favour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really hard to write. I nearly didn't include it but then thought, publish and be damned - pun intended.

The Real Oswald Owns Up

One night, as Taran and Oswald sat by the fire having their nightcap, as they were wont to do, Oswald turned to her, his blue eyes giving her that quizzical gaze that she had become so well acquainted with. “You did say that you loved me, didn’t you, Taran?” he said pointedly.

She knew by that look of his and his use of her first name that he was in the mood to be deep – and it was perfectly possible that he was going to share one of his recollections with her. These were rarely, if ever, at all pleasant. She braced herself.

“Yes, I did – and I meant it, of course – you know that.”

“Well, you are also aware, I hope – that I have become somewhat fond of you, too.”

“I think so, Oswald – but anyway, thank you for saying it!” She felt so warm inside when he revealed his feelings for her like this. He didn’t do that too often. But she wondered what less happy revelations he would be treating her to tonight? She hoped that they wouldn’t be too traumatic - whatever they were. They would most probably induce nightmares in her - like that time when he had told her about his imprisonment and terrible torture in Arkham. That anecdote had haunted her for ages – in fact, it still did quite often. She always tried to ensure that she didn’t eat cheese too close to bedtime just because of that….

Oswald’s expression told her that he was, indeed, going to share something very disturbing with her. She prepared to be his rock, as always….and to put her own feelings on the back burner for his sake. As he had said….she loved him….and nothing would stop her from being his sounding board, and his willing listening ear.

“I am not sure if I should impart this to you....” he began tentatively. He nursed the glass of blood red wine in the palm of his hand thoughtfully, as if mulling over this latest chapter in much greater depth than he normally would.

“Oswald - dearest - you know that there is nothing that you cannot tell me,” she assured him, whilst thinking, “This must be pretty bad if he is taking so much time to think about it!”

“I am not really sure about this one,” he persisted, looking askance at her with his clouded blue eyes.

Despite her misgivings, and because she loved him so much, she insisted that he carry on. “If you need to offload, you know I am here for you,” she said, with great affection. If his words injured her ears, at least they might be helping his heart to heal. She would do anything for him - he knew that! And that included hearing ugly things being spoken of by his pretty little mouth.

“Well then, don’t say I didn’t warn you!” He shrugged fatalistically, raising his eyebrow meaningfully, and took a deep drink of his wine.

And then, he told her all about Isabella, Edward and himself – the ludicrous love triangle that had ended in tragedy for all of the parties concerned.

“Edward was my one and only. I had made up my mind about that. He was the one person who I had set my heart on spending the rest of my life with. After he had helped me to become mayor, I had made him my Chief of Staff. Butch, who had had his nose put out of joint because Edward had deposed him, fabricated a convoluted plot that Edward exposed rather cleverly at my inaugural event. Edward saved my life – but then Butch attacked Edward - and he tried to strangle him in his rage! I saved him – he would have died if I hadn’t grabbed a champagne bottle and smashed it over Butch’s head!” His mouth smiled triumphantly, but there was a hint of trauma deep within his eyes that betrayed his true feelings. 

He stopped momentarily and took a drink before carrying on. 

“Anyway, afterwards we were sitting together on my sofa at home talking about what had happened – I was worried about his throat,” he said, subconsciously touching his own neck as he spoke, “ it was so badly bruised and I wanted him to see a doctor, but he wouldn’t. Edward told me that he believed in me - and that he would do anything for me!” He seemed almost to choke on the words. “I was so touched by his declaration that I embraced him.” He looked straight into Taran’s eyes and gave her such a sad stare that it brought a lump to her throat. “You know, Taran,” he said quietly, “in that moment, just as I moved towards him, I was almost compelled to kiss him, but then I changed my mind. I chickened out. I often wish that I had gone through with it – then at least I would have known how he really felt about me.”

“Oh, Oswald,” she sighed sympathetically. “I’m so sorry....”

Taran made the right noises and said the right comforting words, but secretly she hated Edward. He was the one person who had held Oswald’s heart in his hand, and he had crushed it and thrown it away. Whereas she – well, she would do anything, give anything, for Oswald to love her in that way – but she knew it was hopeless. The green-eyed monster was threatening to raise its head, but she felt Oswald’s pain and this curbed her poisonous feelings and bitter words – at least for now.

Oswald glanced at her gratefully, smiling warmly for a second. “Thank you for your sympathy – but Edward isn’t the only player in this tragedy, my friend.”

“Ah yes, of course. I am sorry to react so prematurely.”

“That is perfectly all right. I appreciate your listening to me. Anyway, you see, everything was going so well. I was mayor. I was successful. The people loved me! I had Edward to share it with too - or so I thought….”

“Oh dear – I think I know what’s coming next!” she thought. She knew that Edward’s love, such as it was, had turned to hate and the whole thing had ended in tears. Oswald and Edward had become sworn enemies. She wasn’t sure why – she expected that he would now explain that to her. Maybe it was because Edward had not returned Oswald’s love – that Oswald had eventually made his move and Edward had rejected his advances. This might have started off a lot of bad feeling….

“I prepared to reveal to him what was in my heart. I rehearsed what I was going to say many times. These were dress rehearsals, of course – often declared to his empty chair at the table - just there.” He gestured towards the chair across the table - the one that still remained empty.

“I had tried to tell him more than once, but I just couldn’t do it! I was just too scared...too afraid of rejection, of ridicule. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I simply couldn’t say the words.”

“Oh, Oswald….bless you.” Taran sighed. She was really touched to hear that he was so tentative and awkward about affairs of the heart.

He looked into her eyes again and smiled sweetly, his blue eyes glinting for a moment. “Oh, Taran,” he sighed, with a hint of forced patience in his tone, “You -well, you are just too precious.”

Taran ignored the subtle mocking note in his tone. “You are precious too,” she replied with sincerity. “Precious to me.”

“Really? You think I am precious too?” he responded, his tone this time far less subtle. He smiled stiffly. “Well, thank you – but I wonder if you will still have that opinion when I have finished my narrative!”

“Well, just try me!” she urged, trying to mask her inner trepidation and not rise to the bait. He was trying to scare her, to get her to tell him to stop - she could sense it. She had to show him that she was not afraid.

“Very well, then. If you insist.” He shrugged, as if to say, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He had said this to her before, but she had borne what he had related gladly, despite the trauma of the outcome, because she loved him.

He took another deep drink before continuing. “I would have another sip or two as well if I were you!” he warned her, giving her another stiff little smile.

She did as he suggested. He looked so deadly serious – even more so than was usual when he got into these scenarios that would most probably make her feel like crying. She had a funny tingling feeling in her spine, her palms had gone sweaty, and her heart had begun to fibrillate. She breathed hard and deep to mask her latent fear.

“So, he continued, “one day I decided to do the deed. I told Edward to show up at the mansion that evening. I was determined this time to tell him how I felt! I had psyched myself up to reveal all to him. I stayed there - sitting there at the table and then pacing around and around for hours, and he didn’t show. He was gone all night long!” He suddenly looked and sounded so distressed, as if he was going through the whole process all over again.

“I was frantic with worry! I called the police as he had been missing for 12 hours – they, of course, just laughed at me! They wouldn’t take my anguish seriously at all! But I knew ‘my Edward’ – or so I thought, anyway. He was reliable – he wouldn’t let me down! He must have met with a terrible accident....or maybe someone had murdered him, someone who was jealous of my success and of our closeness....” 

He was reliving the experience, remembering every moment, and her heart went out to him. Despite her jealousy over Edward, she still hated the thought of Oswald being so traumatised.

“Then - as I was still on the phone to the police, he turned up – as cool and calm as you like! And guess what he told me....” Oswald paused for dramatic effect and pursed up his lips petulantly.

“What was it, Oswald?” she asked. “This must have been bad!” she thought.

“He had ‘met someone!’” Oswald spat out the words venomously. “Some woman ….called Isobel – I mean, Isabella. She was a librarian who he had met in the wine shop -when he was selecting wine for the special, romantic dinner that I had planned for us!”

“Oh no. How ironic!” she agreed.

“Indeed,” he said bitterly, biting his finger distractedly. “Especially as I had asked Olga to work extra hours just to put the feast together. No expense had been spared - I killed the fatted calf for him!” 

He sat and reflected on that for a couple of moments, pursing up his lips crabbily and shaking his head. 

“Anyway, Taran - he said…he said, that he was in love with her!” He emphasised the words ‘in love’ in a disparaging way, and rolled his eyes to demonstrate his disbelief. “I mean, honestly – he had only just met her that night. How could he possibly have known that it was love?”

“Oh, dear – what terrible timing!” Taran cut in, whilst thinking, “This woman knew I loved you as soon as I met you, too! And you know it!” But she chose not to remind him.

“Yes, I know!” he exclaimed, his big eyes and little mouth agape with still-remaining incredulity. “He had stayed up talking to her all night and hadn’t even thought to call me to let me know that he was all right! He let me worry myself sick and didn’t even seem to care!” 

Oswald’s voice was almost reaching its psychotic levels – there was an angry little sob in there - and his azure eyes were so intense and fiery that they could have burned a hole in the carpet….

“Oh, dear –that was inconsiderate!” she concurred cautiously, trying not to add fuel to the flames. “So what happened next? Did he see her again?”

“Yes, he did. More than once. Apparently, it was ‘true love!’” He rolled his eyes and looked skyward, shrugging and throwing up his hands in exasperation. “And I had never got to tell him what I felt. I left it too late. Stupid, stupid me!” he cried tetchily, slapping his forehead with the flat of his hand repeatedly, and then exclaiming, “Ow! Will I never learn that that hurts?”

“Oh, Oswald!” she sighed affectionately. He was so funny, even when bad tempered and angsty. And she thought his petulance whilst being unnerving was also kind of sweet and sexy! Then again, she would….

She suddenly remembered how he had grumbled and grouched at her down the phone for not packing up quickly enough to move in with him all that time ago…. She had at first reacted crossly to being woken up so rudely. He had called her at such an ungodly hour! However, she had realised almost as soon as she had put down the receiver that his behaviour had stemmed from his desperate loneliness and his urgent need for her companionship. This had made her happy beyond measure and had spurred her into immediate action. She had risen from her bed and started to pack for her move with a glad heart and a spring in her step.

He looked askance at her, forgetting his bad temper for a moment. “You are so kind hearted toward me, my little friend. I wonder how understanding you will be after I finish sharing with you. Anyway....”

He took another gulp of wine and continued with his sorry little story.

He had tried all sorts of conniving methods to split up the two ‘lovebirds’. He had gone to see Isabella at the library where she worked and had made her aware of Edward’s criminal past. He referred to Ed’s being in Arkham to hook her in to realising herself that Ed had committed murder. 

Ed had killed Kristen, his former girlfriend, during a psychotic episode. It had landed Edward in Arkham for a while, although Oswald had ended up springing his friend out of there using his power and influence. 

Isabella had been the double of Kristen – including her ‘swan like neck’, as Oswald was keen to point out to Isabella, more than hinting at the nature of Ed’s crime. He had tried his best to use subtle scare tactics to discourage her away from his man.

But this had not deterred her – she was not prepared to give Edward up, and Edward was also more than prepared to work at the relationship. Oswald’s plan had almost worked. He had cunningly persuaded Edward that he really should give up his new lady love - for her own safety. Oswald had been so close to triumph; Edward had sent him around to see his librarian and break up with her by proxy. Oswald had been absolutely delighted to agree do that for him - naturally! But even then, she had refused to accept that the romance was over. 

The worst moment of all was her recognition of the love in Oswald’s eyes for Ed. “You love him too!” she had exclaimed, the realisation suddenly dawning on her, and he had faltered, unable to believe that he had betrayed his feelings so easily to her. And yet Edward had not suspected a thing!

Even then – or maybe, especially then - she had stubbornly refused to back down and let Edward go so that he could belong only to Oswald – no matter how much Oswald had tried to persuade, cajole, and even threaten her. He had said vicious things to her in his desperation. He was not prepared to lose his only chance at happiness – with his Edward….

“So...” Oswald paused for a moment and took another deep swig of wine. “Finally - I felt that I had no choice. Taran, please understand – this was war! She was the opposition – the enemy. I wasn’t going to give him up! It was her or me!”

“Oswald –what did you do?” Taran asked cautiously. She knew Oswald. She knew that he wasn’t talking about sending a strongly worded letter! There was violence in his voice.

“I –erm – arranged for her to have an - ‘accident’!” he said, more hesitantly. He flashed a glance at Taran and had another drink. “It had to look like an accident - you understand.”

“An - accident?!” 

“Yes, I arranged for her break cables to be cut. By Gabe, my erm – handyman, you know him. She crashed her car into an oncoming train.” He said this part more quickly and quietly, as if this would make it less serious, then looked away and drained his wine glass.

Taran was shocked into silence. She had always known that Oswald did violent things, but his world was a brutal one. He had been hurt and abused too. His poor leg had been so cruelly hobbled – he was in pain for so much of the time, and would be in pain and discomfort from it for the rest of his life. Her heart turned over every time she saw how badly he limped, although she found his strange little gait adorable too. 

His mother had been taken cruelly from him, stabbed in the back in such a cowardly way by that bitch Tabitha Galavan – who, for reasons best known to Oswald himself, still walked the planet and breathed the same air as him. This galled her to her very core, and she was determined to mete out some form of punishment to her when the time and circumstances were right!

Her little Cobblepot had been beaten black and blue so many times! He had had his head slammed repeatedly onto a table, used as a general punch bag, and on one occasion, even electrocuted, and no-one had cared enough to look after him and make sure that he would be all right! It had been a miracle that he had survived as long as he had! No-one had bothered to take care of him properly except his mother; and then Ivy; and then last but not least, herself.

He moved in violent circles where the unwritten rule was kill or be killed. It was all about survival, as well as ruthless ambition. She understood that he had to use aggression and treacherous methods to protect and advance himself in that criminal world. She knew also that she was not completely blameless, having committed an act of aggression in his name - and she knew that she would be prepared to do anything to protect his life, just anything.

But for him to cause the death of a defenceless girl….this was something different. It seemed to be a cold-blooded crime. 

He looked round at her and his eyes had a resigned look, as if he knew full well what to expect from her.

“So – what do you think of me now? How do you see your ‘sweet little Cobblepot’ now you have heard what I just told you?”

She felt like her heart would break. He was her world! What was she to do? How was she to answer him?

“Well, I am not sure what to say just now – but please, Oswald, let me think!” she pleaded.

“Fine,” he said stiffly, and then he just sat there beside her quietly, topping up his wine glass and taking frequent sips at his drink.

She stared into the fire for a while, thinking hard, and it seemed that nothing would come to mind to save this situation – this relationship that she had built so carefully and painstakingly with him. No matter what he had said, she felt that it was all worth rescuing. Her heart had invested so much in loving him! But still - nothing seemed to present itself to her.

And then, as her eyes became hypnotised by the flickering flames of the fire, she stared long and hard into her own heart and soul – searching desperately for an answer. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest from the stress and tension – and she was sure his would be too! She could see his chest rise and fall rapidly as he sat there next to her, silently and anxiously waiting for her response.

And then she saw it – there it was, in the midst of the flames, and in the depths of her own being. Oh, thank goodness, she thought. The relief she felt was tremendous. At last she could give Oswald his answer. Right now, for better or for worse….

“Oswald – I have finished thinking now. Are you ready for my reply?” she asked tentatively.

“Well, yes - ready as I will ever be, I suppose!” he laughed harshly. 

And then, he regained the subtly provocative tone, as if challenging her to prove him wrong. 

“Let me guess – you are going to hand me your resignation – and say you are leaving this house - and leaving me.” 

“Resign? Leave you ? And why on earth would I want to do that?” she asked sharply.

“Well – because –you know – of what I said...but wait! Just a minute....” He looked bewildered.

She reached out and gently and affectionately touched the knee on his hobbled leg. She heard him give a little gasp of surprise.

“Just hear me out, please, Oswald. I have something important to say to you.”

“Yes?” His eyes suddenly had a glint of optimism. They looked as pretty as ever, but that sparkle was adding some new animation to them that she had not seen before. She just hoped that he would respond well to what she had to tell him. 

She knew that despite her dismay over his dastardly deed, she really couldn’t stop loving him. It would break her heart to leave him – and so she wouldn’t. But she had to provide some justification for her decision. 

“Oswald – one thing puzzles me - why did you tell me about what you did?” she asked him. “Why did you feel that you had to admit this – well, particular misdemeanour to me? You could have kept quiet about it. I wouldn’t have known any better!”

“Hmmm - well - I think - maybe, I just wanted to test you! To find out how far your loyalty and love would stretch! I knew it was a risk – but it was one that I thought was worth taking. I am not so sure if it was such a good idea now.” He sighed, shrugged fatalistically and took another big gulp of wine.

“Well, Oswald,” she said, “That is very telling. You clearly cared about what I thought. But anyway – back to the subject in hand. I know what you did was...well….unusually bad. I can’t say that I am not affected by it. But, dear Oswald, you are forgetting one thing – love is illogical. And I still love you!”

“You do?!” he exclaimed incredulously, taking a tipsy double-take.

“Yes I do, and I always will! I thought you would know that by now, Oswald. And….. what you did...had done to Isabella was cold-blooded – but your decision to do that came from a hot-blooded heart! You are a very passionate and a very emotional person. I have known that all along. To your way of thinking, Isabella was interfering with fate. She was getting in the way of true love. You couldn’t believe that Ed would be happy with Isabella – not in the long term. How could their love last when it was based only on a few days’ courtship? You had known him much longer and knew all about him, good and bad. There was also no guarantee that that Edward would not repeat his former crime to be tormented by it forever! Maybe you saw it as your duty to save him from that, as well as enabling him to be with his true soul mate – which, of course, was you!”

Oswald’s eyes became huge with amazement. Taran thought his stare was so stunning that she had to stop speaking and gaze at him. It looked like her point had hit home.

 

“I ...erm….I don’t believe that you worked that out...” he faltered. 

“And,” she continued, spurred on by his words and manner, “you did try your very best to persuade Isabella to give up the fight, even warning her of possible recriminations, before you decided to execute the only remaining option you saw open to you. I am not saying that I support your actions, but I do understand the motivation that drove you to them.”

“Do you?” He sounded as if a great weight had been lifted from him. His shoulders relaxed, his eyes shone and his lips began to form a smile.

“Now - Oswald – let me confess something to you,” she said cautiously.

“Oh? What could you possibly need to confess to me?” He looked mildly curious, but not concerned.

“It’s this, Oswald. I am insanely jealous of Edward! I hate him – and I never even met him! He had your heart in his hand! I will never have that! I just can’t get over it. It is so unfair! I am glad that he is frozen in a block of ice and I hope he stays that way forever! I don’t know what I would be capable of if he did come back – if he came back to you and tried to take you away from me – as I know that he could! I really can’t guarantee that I wouldn’t do something about that – something drastic! I would fight for you tooth and nail – even though I know that you could never love me as you loved him.”

“So....what are you saying…is...” he started to look and sound a little nervous.

“I understand your feelings, is what I am saying,” she said. “Oswald – I have a dark place somewhere deep within my soul that belongs entirely to you! You are my world….I would go to hell and back for you!” It was her turn to sound psychotic and obsessed.

“Hell?” he echoed, sounding very uneasy. “Taran – you really can’t mean that!”

“Yes, I do! I do mean that! I don’t take back what I said about Edward. I know you probably love him still deep down – no matter what you say - and I know I should wish for you two somehow to ‘kiss and make up’ and walk off into the Gotham sunset, and get married, and live happily ever after. That is what I should want for you. But Oswald, dearest, I am selfish, and greedy, and I would never want to share you with anyone – or anything!”

Oswald flinched and caught his breath. 

“Taran, listen,” he began placatingly, “Ed never loved me and he never will. And he hates me now and he always will.” There was the trace of a tear in his tone. Then in an instant, he changed his expression, tilting his head playfully, and added, “By the way, if I have anything to do with it he will never be defrosted – he will remain a human popsicle forever. He is never coming back to me, as far as I am concerned. So you need have no worries on that score, my friend!”

“Maybe so, my love – and I am genuinely sorry for you that your feelings went unrequited and everything ended so badly - but that is not the point! If the impossible were to happen….and Edward came back for you, then I stand by what I said! I would dispatch him in a heartbeat if I had to!”

Oswald couldn’t quite believe what she had just said to him. He stared back at her, wide-eyed, open-mouthed and silent.

“So, Oswald darling”, she continued, “Answer me this. I just told you that I would be prepared to do away with the man you love – how do you feel about that?”

“Erm…” he said, and then paused. He fidgeted awkwardly and frowned distractedly, playing thoughtfully with the stem of his wine glass. 

“Well, really...I’m not sure how to feel. You would do that? You would take such drastic action, and do such a dark deed….just for me?”

“Yes I would. Always, and without hesitation, my dear Penguin.”

“Really?” He still looked dumbfounded. “Well, Taran, I never thought that anyone would ever feel so passionately about me.”

“Well, my sweet little Cobblepot, you had better get used to that idea….because I do!” she asserted forcefully.

Oswald put down his wine glass with a sigh of resignation. He looked at her with that little smile of forced patience that she knew so well and loved so much.

“You know, Taran,” he said, his blue eyes glinting wickedly, “On reflection, I think that we actually really do deserve one another.”

“You know, Oswald,” she replied, “That is by far the most wonderful thing that you have ever said to me.”

 

Before they retired to bed, Taran said, “One moment, dear Cobblepot - our business is not yet concluded. There is something else that I need to do before we part.” 

“Oh?” he smiled curiously. “And what would that ‘something else’ be?”

“This,” she said simply – and she went to him, and took his face in her hands and kissed him softly on his mouth. She basked in the joyous feel of his sweet lips on hers, and the taste of the rich residue of the fine wine still clinging to them. 

And then, she stared intensely into his startled eyes. 

“I have been yearning to do that for so long,” she breathed, “and I have never had enough courage to go through with it. But from now on, I will never, ever be afraid to demonstrate my feelings to you….”


	25. Jim Jams and Birthday Boys - the Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Oswald's birthday, but he has forgotten. However, his loving loyal Taran has not, and she now tells Oswald about his special birthday gift. Warning: mention of major character death

**Jim jams and birthday boys.**

“Hey, Oswald – Ozzy -  Mr Penguin - wake up, darling!”

He stirred and then woke up to see her cherubic face smiling down at him.  He blinked hard and rubbed his eyes, then sat up slowly.

“Ooooh – nice jim jams!” she commented playfully.  She sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Erm  - thank you - they are real silk.  Erm – Taran, what are you doing here?  What do you want?”

She saw the nervous look in his eyes and his  tight-mouthed expression.

“Oh, I see….don’t worry, I’m not here to try and ravish you!” she assured him, with a manic laugh.  (“More’s the pity!” she thought. “He looks particularly ravish **ing** in that black silk!”)

“Well good.  I am tired and I don’t fancy having to fight you off,” he remarked crabbily, pursing up his pretty lips petulantly.  He cursed himself for forgetting to lock his bedroom door….he should be more careful now she had confessed her dark desires for him.  “Now – once more, Taran - what do you want?  It’s nearly 3 o’clock – and on that subject, where have you been until now, anyway?!”

He had waited up for her as long as he could, but he had had to retire – he needed his rest and he had to be up early.   And now she was interrupting his beauty sleep – not that he wasn’t secretly glad to see her back home safe and well.  She scared him sometimes but he cared for her, as she cared for him.  She had been acting stranger and stranger just lately, and he was never sure what she had been up to while he wasn’t with her.  The tables really seemed to have turned on him.

“I will tell you in a minute.  Oswald – don’t you know what date it is today?  It’s a very special day!”

He sat there and frowned as he tried to work out what would be so exceptional about this date, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure it out.  As far as he could gather it would just be work, work, work – as usual!  And his addled brain wasn’t completely engaging yet. 

“I give up!  What  **is** so special about this day?” he sighed, throwing up his hands in surrender and giving her his little tight-lipped smile of forced patience.

“It’s your birthday, Ozzy!”  she replied with mock exasperation.

“Erm – my birthday?  Really?”  He stared back at her incredulously.

She looked back at him with pretend severity and then reached out and touched his cheek affectionately.

“Honestly, dear!  Leave it to you to forget your own birthday.  Happy birthday, Mr Penguin!”  Then she leaned down and kissed his cheek lovingly.

  
He winced.  “Erm –thank you for remembering,” he said, putting his hand up to his cheek self-consciously. “I  **had** forgotten.   But I repeat, where have you been all this time?”

“Oh – just getting you your birthday present….” she said casually, pausing for dramatic effect.

“Birthday present?”  He was curious. He looked hard at her hands, which, he saw, were plainly unencumbered.  There was no brightly-wrapped package to be seen.  He wondered what on earth she meant.

“Ah, now you are wondering what – and where - it is.  Well, you see – my bad, beautiful birthday boy – this gift doesn’t need to be wrapped…..” She chuckled mischievously.

“Uh-oh,” he thought warily, “Maybe she  **is** planning to try and seduce me after all!”  He squirmed awkwardly and clutched at his bedsheets uneasily.

“No, no, my little worry-wort, you are quite safe….my gift does not involve doing anything reckless or rough - well, maybe not to  **you** anyway….”  She paused again, looking askance at him meaningfully.

He relaxed his grip on the sheets and sighed visibly.  “Well, in that case – what is it that you have for me then?” He was now wide awake and highly inquisitive.  She had piqued his interest….

“Well, Oswald sweetheart – this is a very exceptional gift!  It is something that you have wanted for a very long time!”  She smiled teasingly.

“Oh?  Is it?”  He wondered what it could be!  

“I have been out and about.  I have been playing a game.”

“A game?” he echoed.  “That sounds very cryptic!”   He frowned with puzzlement.

“Hmmm, well, I won’t keep you guessing for too long, my dear sweet Cobblepot.  As you know – I have a pathological hatred of riddles!”

Oswald felt the sting of her comment.  He was only too aware of what she was hinting at.  He was reminded of her threat to dispatch Edward, should he ever be seen by her as any kind of threat.

“The game, my dearest Oswald, was…”  She hesitated again, then she came close to his ear and uttered the words, in a very low, rasping tone.

“‘Spidey versus Tabby – who will win?’” she said.

The hair stood up on the back of his neck and he felt a tingle all the way down his spine.

“Tabby?” he repeated slowly, looking round at her with his big, curious eyes.  Her face was so close to his now.  And the expression in her eyes told him that she wasn’t just talking about playing hop scotch….

“Yes  - you remember her.  The one who was so free and easy with a dagger.   The one who was so handy with a whip.  The treacherous bitch who murdered your mother  **and** half strangled  **you!”** Her voice almost reached psychotic levels as she recalled what Tabitha had done to her darling Oswald and his beloved mother.

Oswald jumped momentarily.  He remembered what had happened as if it were yesterday.  Tabitha had taunted him so mercilessly about his mother’s death before she had done that garrotting job on him with her whip.  She had almost choked the life out of him!  He had borne the marks on his throat for quite some time afterwards….

When he had shared the memory of this with Taran, she had, of course, been incensed about Tabitha’s actions. “Your poor lovely throat!” she had sighed, almost sobbing with sorrow.  And then she had stroked the place tenderly and then kissed it gently, as if to try to heal the red, livid wield that had long since faded. 

And so it appeared that now, she had decided to take matters into her own hands.  She had become tired of waiting for him to do the deed and had done it for him.  He couldn’t help having mixed feelings about it….

“Taran, dear – I can’t help noticing that you refer to Tabitha in the  **past** tense,” he hinted tentatively, waiting for her to confirm what he now already knew.

“Well spotted, my clever little Cobblepot!”  Taran sat back and looked very pleased with herself.  Her eyes shone with pride.  

“Darling - Tabitha is no more.  The bitch has been dispatched.  She is now an EX- Tabby!  Happy birthday, baby!”


	26. Birthday Cuddles and Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taran gets to sleep beside Oswald for his birthday. She has special plans for his birthday.

**Birthday cuddles**

So, he thought….Taran had ‘retired’ Tabitha, had she?

This knowledge had triggered deeply contradictory emotions in him.  He was still in shock, truth be told.

He did, of course, feel touched that Taran would be prepared to commit such an act just for him.   He was sure that she had never taken anyone’s life before, and this would still be a big deal for her, no matter how blase she tried to sound about it.  He was, of course, more than a little pleased that the murdering bitch who had stabbed his mother in the back had finally had her comeuppance - but Taran’s life might now be in danger.  He hoped that she had been professional enough to cover her tracks and that there had definitely been no witnesses to the fight she had described proudly to him.

Yes, he felt very, very uneasy about any possible recriminations that might come Taran’s  way should any of Tabby’s ‘allies’ find out who had ‘done the deed’. He had also – naturally - been more than a little ticked off at being denied the pleasure of doing the dispatching with his own hands.   He had always intended to see Tabitha off himself, to wreak terrible revenge on her for her cowardly, treacherous act, but the time had never seemed quite right. However, his little Taran had clearly been impatient to show her love and loyalty in a big way – and this gesture of hers was in no way a trivial one to him, however misguided that might turn out to be.   

Her intense joy in delivering her ‘birthday bulletin’ to him in the early hours of his special day had been tangible.   Therefore, of course, he had accepted her news graciously and thankfully – as the occasion had warranted….

He had then – albeit under protest - allowed her to climb into bed with him – ‘just for birthday cuddles’, as she had put it.   He conceded that he should grant her at least one request after doing such a tremendous favour for him.

He had smiled at her stiffly and said, “Fine!  I suppose you had better get in then, or I will never hear  the last of it!” But he knew really that he would be kind of glad to have her with him.  He had slept solo and woken up alone for most of his adult life – and he had somehow expected to have to continue that way until the day he died….

And now, he allowed her – for ‘his’ birthday gift to her – not only to get under the covers with him for company, but also to kiss him goodnight tenderly - on the forehead, of course.  Lip kissing might give her ideas that she really shouldn’t be entertaining….

“There.  Is that better?  Are you comfortable, my little Cobblepot?” she had whispered sweetly, cuddling up to him and nestling against his back with deep contentment.

“Mmm-hmm,” he had answered drowsily, his eyelids already drooping.  He suddenly felt safe and cared for with her. She was being very maternal and gentle.  How could he have accused her of trying to ravish him? Despite her confession of her dark desires, he somehow felt that he could trust her not to molest him.

“Awwww, I’m so glad!  Goodnight..or rather, good morning, my Cobblepot!  And...happy birthday.”

“Thank you, little Taran,” he murmured sleepily, his eyes closing.

Taran  noticed with joy that the soft silk material of Oswald’s pyjamas was perfumed with the same fragrant oils as the ones that he used in his bath.  She lay there inhaling deeply – taking great enjoyment in smelling his heavenly scent. This, combined with the sensation of his warm, breathing body lying right next to hers, confirmed her suspicions that she was truly in a very good place – both physically and mentally.  She hadn’t felt this way in a long, long time….

She knew he was asleep by the deep pattern of his breathing.  She lightly stroked the adorable disco-vamped raven black locks that crowned his lovely head.  “Oh, darling, you are just beautiful. I love you!” she whispered, nuzzling him adoringly and feeling the rich, soft silk of his pyjamas caressing her skin.  She loved the way the soft material encased his warm, slender little body….the body that was now slumbering so peacefully next to hers. She would keep her promise not to try to do anything naughty to her sweet Oswald, although this would be very difficult for her.   

It was agony to have to control her more primal urges toward him.   But it was worth it if only to show him that she could be trusted, and that she could be so close and intimate with him without expecting anything carnal from him.  She knew that he wouldn’t be interested anyway, but it might not stop her from trying.

She had had some pretty dark fantasies about taking him by force; imagining the scared look in his bright blue eyes as she tethered him to his bed with his own silk ties.  She had the feeling that deep down he would let her get away with it, by way of atonement - but this would be the very worst thing that she could do to him on so many levels.  It would be a violation in the worst possible sense. She loved him too much to do that to him. So she continued just to keep that in her head..to keep her company at night when she slept alone, just down the hall from his room….

And now, she looked forward to falling asleep with him, feeling so privileged to be by his side like this.  She also couldn’t wait to wake up with him again, to find him beside her in his big king-sized bed. She had so many great plans for his birthday – and work certainly wasn’t part of the itinerary!  She had managed to cancel his appointments so that she would have him all to herself, on this, his special day….

She would make sure that this would be a birthday to remember, hopefully for all the right reasons….

 


	27. Oswald's Birthday Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taran takes Oswald for a picnic on his birthday with unexpected results

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a very, very difficult chapter to write. I wasn't sure whether to include it, but here it is, for better or for worse.  
> I hope I didn't make Oswald's fantasy figure TOO obvious....

**Oswald’s Birthday Gift**

 

Oswald lay back on the blanket, propped up on his elbows.  Taran was sharing the blanket with him but keeping to a respectful distance.  

 

Oswald gazed at Taran with sleepy eyes and loose, slightly parted lips.  He seemed pretty contented….and, of course, he looked very pretty, too.

 

_ After wearing down Oswald’s petulant protests, Taran had driven her birthday boy out of Gotham and into the countryside, to a secluded spot where they could both enjoy the fine weather and get some fresh air.  The place was a cool, sheltered glade with trees all around, which Oswald admitted that he appreciated for its serenity and seclusion.  _

 

_ His loyal, loving companion had filled a hamper with his favourite foods: tuna sandwiches; an extremely decadent and delicious peanut butter and chocolate birthday cake, apples (ostensibly as a nod to healthy eating, but mainly because Oswald liked them);  and, to wash it all down with, a bottle of very fine vintage fizz, most of which the birthday boy had consumed himself. Consequently, he was now more than a little tipsy. _

 

Taran noticed that he had some chocolate smeared around his mouth.  

 

She imagined licking or even kissing off that chocolate, but she knew that, sadly, she couldn’t do that.  

 

“Come here,” she smiled.  She stretched toward him, grabbed hold of his chin and wiped off  the mess with matronly precision with a wet wipe she had fished out of the cool bag.

 

“Pfft, Miss Tu-Taran, really!”  he spluttered, instinctively pulling away and wrinkling up his nose.  

 

“Sorry dear, but your mouth was all covered in chocolate.  Come back here and hold still, please, so I can finish cleaning you up.”

 

“Honestly!  I’m a grown man, for God’s sake….” he snapped, frowning and pursing up his lips.  But then he sighed and begrudgingly obeyed her instruction.

 

“There, all gone!”  She showed him the wipe which was now covered in chocolate stains.

 

“Really, Miss Tu -Taran!” he grouched, rolling his eyes.  Then he softened and said, “Hmm, there was a lot wasn’t there?  Are you sure it’s all gone?” He touched his lips self-consciously.

 

She laughed. “Yep.  All gone.”

 

“You really do like to look after me, don’t you, Miss Tu-Taran.”  His voice was mocking and his mouth stiffened, but his eyes twinkled at her gently.

 

“Yes I do, Mr Co - Oswald,” she replied, looking into his eyes affectionately.

 

_ They were both getting muddled between their workplace names and their informal way of addressing one another; as they were out of their ‘usual routine’ and therefore out of sync with their normal reality. _

 

“You do mother me,” he persisted, his expression softening.  “You really do care, don’t you?”

 

“Yes, of course I do.  Not that I actually want to be your….”  she paused.

 

“Mother, yes, I know….of course you don’t,”  he said meaningfully.

 

Oswald’s eyes clouded for a moment, then brightened up again.

 

“Would you top up my drink please, Taran?” he said cheerfully.

 

“Yes, of course Oswald.  It’s your birthday. How could I refuse?”  she smiled, then glugged the fizzy wine into his proffered paper  cup. “You know, Oswald - I really do love to see you looking so….laid back, for a change....”

 

_ Taran had convinced Oswald that the tracksuit she had talked him into wearing was more suitable attire for a picnic than the stiff, formal suits he habitually wore.   _

 

_ He wasn’t the most informal of men - and this was one of the many things she admired about him.  She loved the exquisite richly-coloured satin waistcoats, silk ties and elegant tuxedos and tails he usually adorned himself with.  But for this occasion, she wanted him to feel more comfortable and not worry about getting a little messed up and rumpled. _

 

_ The tracksuit was a very fetching shade of sky blue - which went with the colour of his eyes very well.  She had chosen that for him and he had reluctantly approved. “I have to admit, Miss Tula - you have a very good eye for clothes,” he had told her, somewhat begrudgingly, as he had checked out his appearance anxiously in the mirror. _

 

_ “And I have a very keen eye for what’s in them,” she had mused to herself, hoping she wouldn’t give too much away by the way she was glancing over him. _

 

_ She was of the opinion that he looked very sexy in his casual gear.  The tracksuit fitted his slender little body perfectly. She had always thought he was small yet perfectly formed. _

 

“Taran….there is something important I need to say to you.”  He suddenly sounded very serious, and the expression in his eyes became solemn.  He pulled down the zip on his tracksuit top just a little. 

 

“Oh?”  she said cautiously. “This sounds ominous, Oswald.”

 

_ She knew that dark look and where it might be leading.  She hoped that this didn’t mean that the light mood she wanted to sustain for his special day would be marred by one of his traumatic recollections - although she was always prepared to listen to them. _

 

Oswald took a deep drink of his wine.  “Well,” he said, “I was just thinking….Miss Tu - Taran, you have always been so loyal to me, and I…..well, I suppose I have become rather fond of you....in my way.”  He looked askance at her coyly.

 

“Oh, thank you Oswald....it’s nice to hear you say that.”  She blushed. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so challenging after all….

 

“Well, you have told me more than once how you feel about me.”  He raised his eyebrow meaningfully.

 

“Yes.  Yes, I suppose I have….” She blushed.

 

“You’ve said some very sweet things to me, Taran.  And you've been there for me. Always. You have never failed me.”  He sounded very woozy and mellow and his eyes were starting to look glazed.  He kept sipping away at his champagne.

 

“I am always glad to be there for you.  You deserve loyalty….and…. love....”

 

“Thank you, Taran.   That was a very pretty thing to say.  By the way - don’t  **you** want a top up?”  He nodded towards her now-empty cup.

 

“Erm, no thank you Oswald.   I have to drive us home, remember?”

 

“Ah, yes, of course….ah well, never mind.”  Oswald took another big gulp. “All the more for me, eh?”  he chuckled manically.

 

“Yes, all the more for you - birthday boy!”  she smiled.

 

“Yes, yes, I keep forgetting, thank you for reminding me…..”  Oswald glanced briefly at the ravaged birthday cake which he had made a decent dent in and managed to get all over himself.  “Anyway, do you want to hear what I have to say, Taran?” 

 

“Yes of course, Oswald.  Sorry. Did I interrupt you?”

 

“No, not at all.   And you know what we agreed about apologies - yes?”  He winked his pretty blue eye at her. “Well….anyway….as I was saying, you told me how you feel..about..loving me, didn't you. I mean, we have been over this before, more than once….”

 

“Yes, we have.  You know that I think you are beautiful, Oswald.  You know that I adore you…. more than anyone or anything.  You know that I would do absolutely anything that you wanted or needed me to.  And….you know that I know that I can’t have you. And...and I have accepted it….although it has taken me a while….”  She sighed sadly and fatalistically. The mood was falling again.

 

Oswald swallowed hard.  “Yes, you call me beautiful, Taran, and say all those other…..very lovely things, and for that I am eternally astonished….and grateful.  But you stay with me, Taran, even though you know there is no promise of….well, sex, for want of a better word....” He cleared his throat awkwardly.

 

“Well...yes….I know….but….”

 

“Yet you sleep just down the hall from me, knowing that you could never come to my bed….well, not for sex anyway.”  He chuckled bashfully, remembering the comforting platonic cuddles they had shared just that morning.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Why?  Well - because I love you, of course. As you said….we have been over all that, much more than once.”  She started to wonder what he was building up to….but she kept quiet and allowed him to find his way.

 

He bowed his raven-haired head and shook it slowly.  He took another drink. “If only….if only,” he said in a low, murmuring voice, as if to himself.

 

“Oswald?”  she said. “Are you all right?”

 

He raised his head and smiled his manic grin, which, she thought, was now made extra cute by its wonky lopsidedness.   He was clearly quite drunk now.

 

“Never better, Taran.”  His mouth became straight again, his lips tightening with grim determination.  His eyes flashed like blue lightning….those stunning blue death rays of revenge that could knock her down with one look.

 

“Oh.  Right.  Well, that’s ok then.”  She swallowed hard, staring back at him like a rabbit caught in bright blue headlights.

 

He looked down and began to fidget awkwardly with his paper cup, which was again nearly drained of its contents.  “It’s just that....” he began again, sounding quite overcome and unsteady, “Well, you have done so much for me....without expecting anything back….”

 

“You pay me a good salary!” she pointed out.

 

He glanced back up quickly and grinned.  “Well, yes....that’s true, I suppose….but I mean.... in the way of other things….not just money….”  He tilted his head, his eyes glinting at her suggestively.

 

“Like what?”

 

“‘Like what?’”  he echoed, in a mocking tone.  “Come on now, Taran. Don’t act all innocent with me!”

 

“Oswald…?” she replied, startled by the sudden, drastic change in the sound of his voice.

 

“We both know what you want, Taran.”  His mouth stretched into his wide feline smile, his cheeks dimpling and his cerulean eyes flashing provocatively.

 

“Oh...erm, do we?”  she said evasively. She felt her ears go very hot, and the rest of her was following very swiftly.  That look always made her feel weak. She was helpless in the power of that stare, and he knew it.

 

“Yes - we do.  Don’t try to be coy when you’ve already admitted it to me.”

 

She looked away and said nothing.  She knew what he was getting at and there was no point in denying it.

 

“There, that’s better. Now I know you understand me. Let’s be honest with each other, Taran. Cards on the table time.”

 

This was a challenge and she needed to rise to it.  She looked back at him and held his gaze with grim determination.  

 

“All right, then” she said calmly.  “I’ll say it plainly. I want to have you.  But I know I can’t have you because...it’s not your way….”

 

“‘Not my way’? Oh, come on Taran.  You can do better than that. I thought you said you’d speak plainly.  Call a spade a spade!”

 

“OK then - you’re gay.  And I’m a woman. So any kind of sexual intimacy is impossible.  End of story.” 

 

She spoke forcefully but felt tears welling up in her eyes.  She had hoped that this birthday picnic would be a nice way to relax and get away from all their troubles….get away from Gotham and enjoy being just Oswald and Taran, not the Penguin and the Spider Woman for a change.  However, it appeared that she had been sadly mistaken. He appeared to be baiting her and she couldn’t figure out why.

 

“Impossible?  Now Taran, did I ever actually  **say** that?”   He arched his eyebrow.

 

“Erm...well, no....not exactly.  But you more than implied it. If I remember rightly you once said something like, ‘I’m so sorry to disappoint you Miss Tula, but well, I actually happen to be....erm, gay,”  she recited, attempting to mimic his actions and tone.

 

“Hey, that was actually a pretty good impression of me Miss Tula!”  Oswald chuckled huskily. 

 

Then he immediately stopped smiling and his mouth tightened again.

 

“Anyway.  Taran, listen to me, and listen good.  I suppose you are aware that I am in fact...a virgin?”

 

“Well...erm….I did kind of suspect it, but as you never actually said….I wasn’t sure…” she said awkwardly.

 

“Well, I am, Miss Tu - Taran.  Isn’t that embarrassing? Oswald Cobblepot, former mayor and wealthy kingpin - one of the most feared and powerful men in Gotham - and I am still hanging on to my virtue.  I’m 32 and I still haven’t ditched it. And I am starting to feel that I need to.”

 

“Oh, Oswald,” she protested, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.  Anyway, shouldn’t you..shouldn’t you save it for….”

 

“Save it for a rainy day?” he cut in, laughing harshly.

 

“No, I was going to say...someone.....”

 

“Taran, if you are going to say ‘someone special’, I will be very disappointed in you!”  he snapped petulantly, his eyes flashing.

 

She flinched.   Then she looked back at him sadly.  “I am sorry to disappoint you, Oswald,” she said remorsefully.   “You know I never meant to offend you.”

 

Oswald inwardly sighed.  For some reason, he could never stand to see Miss Tula look unhappy.  His mouth loosened into a smile.

 

“Look, don’t beat yourself up about it,” he said placatingly.  “You know we agreed that sorry shouldn’t be part of our vocabulary - right?   I’m just being a little….over-sensitive, as usual.”

 

“Oswald...please..just tell me where this is leading,” she pleaded.  

 

“Very well, I shall cut to the chase.  Miss Tula, I am serious about offering my virtue to someone.  And, as you know, I have no “special someone’ to whom I can gift it - and I think it highly unlikely that I ever will.  But, Taran, this erm….assignment, for want of a better expression, needs to be taken on by someone I know. Someone I trust.  Someone who at least means something to me.”

 

“Erm….Oswald….”

 

“And as we have already established -  you want me. And we know you are very frustrated about not being able to have me.  So...we could do each other a favour.…”

 

Taran listened and her eyes gradually widened with disbelief as what he was suggesting dawned on her.

 

“What?!  Oswald! No….we can’t…. **you** definitely can’t…”

 

“Who says I can’t?”  he laughed harshly. “You know I can do anything I put my mind to.”

 

“But Oswald..I can’t make you go against your true nature.  That would be cruel.”

 

“It would be if you forced me - but I’m offering myself to you, which is different.”

 

“Oh, Oswald...you don’t know what you’re saying.  It’s the drink talking.”

 

“I know I’ve been drinking, Taran, but I know what I’m saying, and I mean it.  It’s a genuine offer - but ending today. Just for my birthday. You understand.”  He smirked wonkily. He took another drink, swallowed hard, and stared at her intensely, his mouth drawn tight and his eyes glimmering with hope.

 

“Oh Ozzy….you know I think you are beautiful....and sexy….and of course I want you..very much, you know that.  But..well, even if I agree to it...I mean,  **how** ?”

 

Oswald’s mouth relaxed into a smile.  He moved in closer, speaking in a quiet, conspiratorial way - as if the trees around them might be listening in.

 

“Do you remember, a while ago, when you very  kindly gave me that neck and shoulder massage?”

 

“Um, yes.  I remember.  I didn’t get too far with it though, you left a bit suddenly.  I was worried I’d done something wrong, but you explained that you’d had cramp.”

 

“Cramp!  Ha!” He scoffed.

 

“Oswald?” she probed.

 

“Taran….dear, sweet, innocent girl….it wasn’t cramp….”  he countered.

 

“Oh.  Wasn’t it?”  Taran thought she knew what he was getting at, but couldn’t quite believe it.

 

“No, as I just said, it wasn’t,” he said impatiently.

 

“Then, um, what was it?”

 

“Oh, honestly!  What am I going to do with you?””  He sighed with exasperation.

 

He came really near to her - so close that his lips almost brushed against her ear.  She felt his warm, alcohol-fuelled breath on her skin and closed her eyes slowly.

 

He lowered his voice to a whisper.

 

“Arousal.”

 

He moved away from her, sat back and put his hands behind him on the blanket to steady himself.  He watched and waited for her reaction.

 

Taran flinched when she heard what he’d said.  She looked at him, checking his eyes for any signs of mirth or mischief.  She thought he must be playing with her and she didn’t like that concept one bit.

 

“Are you messing with me?” she said.  “Because, if you are, it’s just not funny, Oswald.”

 

“Of course I’m not ‘messing with you’, as you so quaintly put it, Miss Tu-Taran,” he rebutted.  “You did arouse me! You made me go hard with your magic hands!” He bit his knuckle and looked scandalised at what he’d just had the nerve to say.

 

“Oh.”  Taran’s heart fibrillated.  Her mouth went dry. 

 

“That’s why I left,” he continued.  “I was....well, somewhat shocked. My body took me by surprise and I couldn’t quite handle it.  It was..completely unexpected.” 

 

“Erm….I see….”  Taran was still in shock.  She had actually turned Oswald on and been completely unaware of it. She didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or kick herself.  Or even all three….

 

“So, you see...if you can do me the same favour now...I can repay it.  With interest, if you play your cards right. I can ‘rally the troops’ for you!”  He chuckled demonically.

 

“Oh, Oswald....I’m not really sure about this….”

 

“Taran, let me put it this way,” he cut in with a heavy sigh.  “You were prepared to dispatch one of my worst enemies for me, and did so, without hesitation….and yet you don't want to make love with me when I offer it?  Isn’t that….well, a tad ridiculous?” 

 

“Erm...well, when you put it like that….I suppose it does sound silly,”  she agreed.

 

Her moral resolve was crumbling into dust.  Her beautiful Oswald was right here….sitting so close to her….and offering himself to her on a plate like a slice of birthday cake.  It would surely be insane - or at the very least, impolite - to refuse him. How they would manage it was beyond her, but she was more than willing to give it a go if he was.

 

“There you go!  I knew you’d come round to the idea.”  He grinned impishly. He put down his empty cup with a happy sigh.

 

“So..then...Oswald...let me get this straight,” she said, reaching up and stroking his dimpled cheek lightly with the back of her hand.  His eyes lit up like big shining stars at her touch and she just melted inside to see it, and to feel the warmth of his skin against hers.  “You just want me to rub your shoulders…?”

  
  


_ Taran didn’t need telling twice.   _

 

_ He had disrobed himself inside the blanket, the other blanket underneath him.  Then she had joined him, undressing herself under cover in the same bashful way, so as not to embarrass him. _

 

_ “I love you, Oswald.  Thank you so much for this gift,” she had told him, and she had then laid her hands on him in the same special way that she had before. _

 

_ “Go deeper..and lower...please….don’t spare the horses now!”  he had commanded, and she had obeyed enthusiastically. _

 

_ “Ooh!” he had exclaimed suddenly, her intimate touching kicking his bodily functions into action very quickly.  “I think we might be getting somewhere already….” _

 

_ “Oh….Mr Cobblepot….sir….” _

 

_ “Mmmm, sir - now,  I do like that!” He really had appreciated that! _

 

_ “Mr Cobblepot….sir....” she had repeated softly, delving deeper and deeper into his muscle tissue...and travelling lower on his body. _

 

_ “Yes, that’s it, that’s it…” he gasped.  “I am ready!” _

  
  
  
  


_ She mounted him and guided him in slowly and carefully.   _

 

_ “Oswald, I love you,” she had sighed, as he had begun his journey within her. “I love you so much.”  _

 

_ His eyes had glazed over and then closed tightly.  He had taken deep breaths and then his mind had transported him to a different place….searching for that special someone to star in his fantasy. _

 

_ He thought that would help him to survive the experience, and, effectively, help her as well.  If he managed to get any enjoyment out of this it would make her feel good too. _

 

_ His lover had deep blue eyes and a bewitching look of bewilderment….this apparition was clearly puzzled about being conjured up by  Oswald’s fevered imagination…. _

 

_ Oswald was very confused too. _

 

_ This had been completely unexpected.  This was not his one and only, the one he thought he loved and desired…. _

 

_ Maybe opposites did attract after all…. _

 

_ The lover had spoken.  Large, sad blue eyes had stared down, full of guilt and remorse. _

 

_ “I’m sorry, Oswald,” the voice had said,  grit and gravel becoming smooth, soft and warm like a soothing summer breeze.   “I’m so sorry….I love you.” _

 

_ “It’s alright - I forgive you,” Oswald replied, his own voice distant and disembodied.  “I...love you too.” _

  
  
  


“You see?  I can rise to any occasion when I need to….”  he purred up at her, staring at her with heavy, half-closed eyes.

 

“But Oswald....you fainted!  I was so worried! I thought….well, for a moment, I thought I might have killed you - you looked so pale and still.  I’m sorry, darling. I must have pushed you too far….”

 

“No, you didn’t.   I had too much to drink...and….I was tired, that’s all.  I am absolutely fine. Did you ….erm….enjoy yourself?”

 

“Well, yes, of course I did - until you passed out.  I really thought you were dead at first…”

 

“Now now Miss Tula, I’ve told you I am fine.  Let’s speak no more about it. I was probably just over-excited.”   He winked. “Anyway, I seem to remember you...erm….managed it....”

 

“Yes, I did….indeed, I did….you were the best….Mr Penguin!   And...you did too, y’know, just before you fainted. I’m sorry if you can’t remember that part.  I was so pleased that it happened for you. And I’m so grateful to you for your….sacrifice….”

 

“It was no sacrifice.  I did it with a whole heart.  I...well, I did want to please you….and I hope I succeeded...”

 

“God, yes!  You did please me - very much.….I hoped that was obvious!  And…..just for the record….you have a gorgeous body, Oswald.  It’s sublime. You have nothing to be ashamed of..at all….I feel lucky to have known you in this way.”

 

“Oh.  Thank you.”  His face went very warm.   “That is kind.”

 

“It’s not kind, Oswald - it’s the truth.  But I won’t forget your kindness….ever.”

 

“Very well, Taran - duly noted,” he conceded.  “And now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get a little respite.  I’m feeling a tad tired. You understand.” 

 

“Awwww, Oswald, of course I do!  You must be exhausted, you poor thing.  Are you warm enough now? I can fetch your clothes….”

 

_ Taran had figured out that Oswald had been in shock after he had reached his orgasm.  He had become still and pale -she had been so afraid for him. But he had started to come round, and as he had, he had shivered, his body feeling cold and clammy against hers.  The alcohol must have dropped his body temperature too. She had rubbed him furiously to warm him up and had clasped him to her tightly. “Oswald, Oswald, I am sorry, I love you!”  she had whispered to him frantically. He had been delirious, she could tell, and he had said, “I forgive you,” and, “I love you too.” She wondered if it was her he was saying it to, or some other third party in his mind’s eye…. _

 

“No,  thank you, Taran.  Not yet. Leave me as I am, I’m very comfortable here in my cocoon!”

 

“OK then, darling.”   She stroked his fringe back from his face gently.  “Rest easy, my sweet little Cobblepot. And once again....thank you.”  She kissed him on the forehead affectionately and then went off to clear away the picnic and prepare for their journey home.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	28. Taran and Oswald - the morning after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is the morning after Oswald's birthday picnic and Oswald and Taran have to pick up the threads of their 'normal' lives and work together in their 'boss and secretary' roles.
> 
> Oswald reflects on the meaning of his 'coital fantasy' and considers preparing to act on it.

**Taran and Oswald - the morning after**

Taran found it almost impossible to focus on work next day.  She found it even harder to look at Mr Cobblepot without visualising him without his clothes, too.  She of course knew that this issue would raise its head, and it had been one of her many misgivings about going through with Oswald’s suggestion.  But even so, she felt the experience had been well worth it.  He had such a beautiful body and she was so glad that she had got to see it….and feel  it….and enjoy it….if only just once.

He had started the day with an Alka Seltzer and strong coffee, along with a little dry toast, saying that he had ‘a bit of a sensitive stomach’, and never mentioning the words ‘hangover’, ‘birthday’, or ‘drink’.  Or what they had got up to, of course….

But she couldn’t help remembering how it had felt….how  **he** had felt. It was kind of  like he was still there...inside.  It was so difficult to stop thinking about it and reliving it.  He had left a lasting impression in more ways than one.

It didn’t help when he had bent over the ledger, standing so close that she could smell his sensual scent and feel his radiating body heat, and see just a flash of his bare throat as he reached inside his tight shirt collar and pulled at it distractedly - clearly wanting to loosen it, but not daring to in her company.  She was sorely tempted to touch him in a way that was definitely inappropriate to their relationship….both professional and personal....

She took deep breaths.  She had to stay in control.  They were adults, after all, and he seemed to be coping with the situation extremely well - maybe a little too well, if she was honest.  If anything, he almost appeared to be over-compensating.

“Miss Tula, the ledger looks fine to me,” he said stiffly, “That will be all for now,” in a voice that told her definitely not to bother him anymore.  But there was a telltale look deep within his azure eyes that spoke volumes.  He just couldn’t hide the truth from her.  He was having trouble disengaging himself from the memory, too.  She hoped that his recollections were not too disturbing for him.

“Very well, Mr Cobblepot,” she said deferentially, playing along with him, yet knowing her own face must betray her true sentiment.  He must be able to see the hunger and longing, the memory of what had passed between them, still there in her eyes. She regretfully turned and walked away, preparing to leave him alone with his thoughts.

She couldn’t help thinking about Ed, and all that he had passed up.  He didn’t know what he was missing - and she hoped it would continue that way. He was still a human popsicle and she hoped he would stay in that state forever, although, of course, there was no guarantee that some lunatic wouldn’t come along and thaw him out or break him out with an ice pick one day.  

As far as she was concerned, Oswald was so beautiful that he could appeal to anyone, no matter what their persuasion.  How could Ed have looked into those stunning baby blues - especially when they were full of tears - and not melted?  How could any person with seeing eyes and an open heart resist him - not love him, or at least feel some sympathy for him,  even just a teensy bit?   She just couldn’t comprehend it.

“Um, Taran,” he called tentatively, stopping her in her tracks just as she reached the door.

She turned back.  His use of her first name and in such an altered tone made her heart leap.

She was pleased to see the semblance of a smile on his wan face.  That made her feel warm all over.

“Yes, Oswald?” she replied hopefully - although she wasn’t actually sure what she was hoping for…..

“I just forgot to say - thank you for your help,” he said politely, then his mouth stiffened again and he turned away and turned his attention to the papers on his table, signalling that their conversation was finally over.

Once Miss Tula had left him, Oswald went and collapsed down into his chair at the head of the table and pressed his hands hard against his temple.  His head was pounding.  

He pulled down his tie and unfastened his top shirt button.  Now he could breathe again!  He had felt suffocated but unable to free himself from his formal shackles in front of Miss Tula - even, or maybe, especially after what they had got up to yesterday.

He grabbed the jug of iced water Miss Tula had thoughtfully provided on the table and poured himself a glassful of the clear, refreshing liquid.  He gulped it down quickly.  The cool, soothing water flowed down his dry, parched throat, reviving him and making him sigh with intense relief.   He placed down the empty glass and closed his eyes. 

He felt like death.  He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to drink so much - even on his birthday!  But he had needed Dutch courage...he had wanted to complete his mission, and the booze had made him bold enough to persuade Miss Tula to agree to his cunning plan.  And then to execute the plan, with her kind and, of course,  extremely willing help.

He recalled the rather impressive spider tattoo on her upper left arm, which, of course, had been hidden from him up until she had revealed herself to him. He had really appreciated her modesty in undressing under the blanket, respecting his shyness about his own nakedness.   And to give him such a compliment about his physique had been so kind - he would love to think that she had really meant it, especially as she had stroked his hobbled leg and made a point of saying he was beautiful ALL OVER  as she had touched it.  But even if she hadn’t been truthful, it had still been a real ego boost for him at the time.

She had been no slouch herself in the physical sense - he had noticed that. He knew she kept herself fit and active and ate healthily, and that had all definitely paid off.  He felt sad that she seemed to be wasting time hanging around him when he couldn’t give her the kind of love she really wanted, although, of course, he was glad that she still didn’t seem to want to give him up - in any sense.

He wondered if he would ever find love in its fullest sense.  He remembered the invader of his dreams….the one who had made that unexpected appearance in his coital fantasy, helping him to come to his climax….before he had unfortunately passed out on Miss Tula so unceremoniously.

At first, he had been completely baffled as to why **they** were there, but he was quickly realising that this should have been no surprise to him at all….

Deep down, he had known all along that this person was truly his soulmate.  He had felt flickers of desire every time they had met, but maybe because the person behaved so coldly and dismissively toward him, he had tried to deny his feelings to protect himself from hurt.

Maybe he should be bold.  Maybe he should act swiftly….get this person alone, talk it over with them.  

He knew too well the meaning of the phrase “He who hesitates is lost” and he didn’t want to make that mistake again….


	29. Sweet Little Psycho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald and Taran have some meaningful banter

**Sweet Little Psycho.**

**_“There is no life – no love – without pain.”_ ** _ Alfred Pennyworth. _

“You petulant,  **pretty** little psycho!  My crabby,  **cute** little Cobblepot!”

Oswald felt like he had been slapped around with a wet fish and stroked with a velvet glove at the same time!  This was very confusing! 

He put down his coffee cup and stared at her indignantly.  “And what do you mean by that, exactly?” he demanded.

“Just that, my love,” she grinned in reply.  “That look you gave me, just this instant! Do you know how  **exceptionally** beautiful your eyes become when you get all impatient and tetchy like that?! They are so HUGE and bright!  So intense and icy blue! That look of yours just makes me feel weak, my sweet little Cobblepot!”

“Oh - does it, indeed?”  he scoffed, raising his eyebrow archly.  “Well, I must be downright adorable to you most of the time then!”

She chuckled.  “That’s right - you are, my beautiful,  bad tempered boy!”

He gave her a stiff little smile of tolerance.  “Fine! Have it your way!” He shrugged, picked up his coffee cup again, and took another tentative sip at his hot beverage.  

She smiled at him affectionately and said, “You do know I love you, don’t you, you gorgeous old grouch?”

“Hey – less of the old!” he fired back playfully.  Then he winked and gave her his sweetest impish grin to show that there were, in fact, no hard feelings.  

Her heart turned over, and she felt a warm glow inside.  She realised that this was the closest she would probably ever get to “I love you, too” from her ‘pretty, petulant’  Penguin. And this was the nearest that they would ever get to ‘domestic bliss’. But the situation could be a lot worse than this!  And she would make the very most of these perfect moments that she could. 

She was so happy right now!  She had never thought that she would ever get to be so comfortable and intimate with this man – this person who everyone had told her was a monster, who hadn’t the capacity to love, only to hate.  The man with whom she had fallen head-over-heels in love, against logic, and against reason, the moment her eyes had met his. 

But she had an uneasy feeling deep down that this happiness wasn’t going to last –even after everything that they had been through and survived together.  And they had been through such a lot! 

They lived in a violent world – he had many enemies.  Although, thank goodness, he did seem to lead a charmed life – and had escaped death so many times – it didn’t mean that his luck wouldn’t run out one day.  That thought tore at her heart, threatened to break it, for she just couldn’t imagine being without him!

She would never give him up without a fight - to the death if need be.  

Oswald was, and always would be, her world – whatever happened! 

  
  
  
  
  
  


.

 


	30. Trauma, Torment and Torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taran is tortured. Oswald tortures himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This and the next, follow-up chapter took a while to get written, I hope they were worth the wait. I am very uncomfortable with torture scenes but this had to get written.

**Trauma, Torment and Torture**

 

“ She’ll pull through – thanks to you.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Ivy sighed.   “But - what about …..?”

“Well  - I’m afraid that’s not looking so good.  But she will recover and she is out of danger.   We examined her and there are no internal injuries.  It could have been much worse.”

“Yeah, I guess it could.  But….oh….Pengy...Mr Cobblepot…..he will be crazy mad when I  tell him!”

  
  


“Ozzy!  At last! Where the hell  **are** you?”

Ivy spoke frantically into her cell phone after trying for what seemed like an eternity to reach him.

“What do you mean, ‘where the hell am I’?  I’m in town, of course!” he snapped petulantly.  “What do you want?!”

He had switched on his cellphone to be greeted by numerous missed calls and several lines of angry text - all demanding, “Where are you?!”  All from Ivy. Such insolence, he thought. He would have words with her when he got home.

“What the hell are you still doing in town?!  No, on second thoughts, I don’t want to know. Ozzy, listen – you have to come to Gotham General!”

“Gotham General? Why?” he quizzed, wrinkling his brow.

“Oswald - erm -  it’s Taran….”

“What?!”  His tetchiness escalated rapidly to angry panic.  The hairs stood up on the back of his neck. “What about her?!”  He swallowed hard and his mouth went dry.

“Oswald...she….” Ivy paused.

“What?  What...happened to her?!  TELL ME!” he yelled. He felt the blood drain away from his face. He prepared himself for the worst.

“She was attacked.”

Oswald caught his breath.  His heart began to fibrillate and his hands started shaking.  

“Wha...what?” he stammered.

“I found her.  I think I disturbed them...”

“ **Found** her??  What do you mean…She’s not….?”  He couldn’t finish the sentence.

“No, Oswald, no, she’s not dead, but....”   Ivy paused again.

He relaxed for a moment.  Not dead...not dead…..he sighed with relief, focussing on those  glorious words. Then he felt an icy chill in his spine.

“What do you mean, ‘ **but** ’?” 

“Well….she’s alive, but...”

“ **But** **what?!** ”  he barked.  He felt intense panic mounting again.

“I’ll tell you when you get here. Please, Ozzy, just get here - now!”

“OK, OK - I’m on my way!” 

  
  


It must all have been a rouse.  A ploy to get him out of the way - so that they could get to her.  He should have known the deal was too good to be true.

  
  


She had been ambushed while he was away .  It must have been revenge for Tabitha. They had tortured her - mutilating her horribly -  and left her for dead. He should have known....he should have been prepared.

He shouldn’t have left her alone in the house.  She would be so damned independent! He should have been there….

 

If Ivy hadn’t come home unexpectedly....earlier than she was intending to....it didn’t bear thinking about.

 

They would pay for this - they would pay with their lives - but not right away….a quick, clean  death would be far too good for them….

She awoke briefly to see him sitting alongside her bed.  At first she was confused - what was she doing here, lying in bed like this?  What was he doing there, sitting and staring down at her in that quiet, haunted way?

 

Then the pain reminded her.

 

She wanted to speak to him, but her face hurt far too much.  She was glad to see him, though - at least she could see, with her one uncovered eye -  that was something. She could feel the bandages on the left side of her face - the side that had been cut so deeply by the assailant’s blade.  She had been fully blindfolded while they had tortured her, she had never seen their faces. She hadn’t even been able to recognise their voices….

 

“Hey, Miss Tula.” His mouth smiled, his cheeks dimpling in the adorable way that she loved so much, but his eyes told a different story.  There was darkness, anger and pain deep within them as well as the tell tale signs of sleep deprivation. He looked exhausted! Her heart turned over.

 

She could always see when he was upset, no matter how cleverly he tried to hide it from her -  he could never conceal his true feelings from her.

 

She wished she could even try to smile back at him, but this was impossible.  They had done a good job on her - whoever they were. If only she could be sure….

 

He reached out tentatively and took her hand.  She squeezed him. He returned the pressure very gently.

 

“Glad to see you’re awake at last,” he ventured, with exaggerated cheerfulness.  He was clearly struggling for something to say. He was feeling awkward, she could see that.  Bless him, she thought.

 

She stared back, still unable to speak or smile, but pressed his hand again to show that she had heard him and understood.

 

His eyes suddenly filled up with tears, and he bit his lip as if trying to fight them.  “I’m so sorry,” he said remorsefully. “This is all my fault….”

 

She pressed his hand emphatically, desperate to reassure him.  She wished she could speak. “It was my fault, not yours!” she wanted to say.  “I should have been more careful.”

 

_ They had sneaked up on her from behind and knocked her out.  She had been off her guard, and slow to react. She hadn’t been quite herself just lately - sluggish, tired a lot of the time.  She wasn’t sure why. _

  
  


_ She had come round to find herself blindfolded and tied to a chair. _

 

 _They had said hateful, unforgivable things.  Called him a monster, when she knew full well that he wasn’t._

_ “You are the REAL monsters!” she had declared defiantly, her blinded eyes welling up with angry tears, just before they had begun to prove, without question,  that she was right. _

 

_ They had tried to make her betray him, say she wasn’t his ally, and that she didn’t love him.  That was the only thing that would make them stop. _

 

_ But she couldn’t do that.  It would have been the cruellest cut of all. _

 

_ “You’re crazy, taking all this just for Cobblepot….” she had heard, just before she felt the hands grip her head and hold it in place so her captors could continue with their work - before she finally passed out from the pain. _

“Yes, I’m crazy over Cobblepot,” she thought,  “And I’m so proud of my madness….to hell with sanity, if that’s what you represent.”

 


	31. Jim is Only Trying to Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim goes to Gotham General to offer to help find who tortured Miss Tula

Jim is only trying to help….

“I’ll make sure they pay for this, my little dove.” Oswald carefully stroked back Miss Tula’s hair, then grasped her hand, holding on to it like a drowning man onto a liferaft.

He didn’t notice Jim. Jim didn't sneak up on him, exactly - he just didn't want to disturb this tender moment.

How could he possibly envy a badly injured woman? He was so ashamed to admit that, but it was true.

He cleared his throat.

Oswald spun round, dropping Miss Tula’s hand in his surprise. “Jim!” He looked, and sounded, flustered. He got to his feet and hobbled forward.

“I’m sorry, Oswald. I didn’t mean to interrupt….”

”Interrupt? You interrupted nothing!” Oswald snapped defensively, his eyes flashing. “What do you want Jim?”

“Erm - well, I just wondered - how is she Oswald?”

One look at the comatose figure lying unconscious with her face swathed in bandages should have told him - but he wanted to ask, anyway.

Oswald’s attitude softened, just slightly. His eyes dimmed.

“As well as can be expected. She’s lucky to be alive.” A low growl entered the tone of his voice as he said the word ‘alive.’ 

Jim wasn't used to being gentle with Oswald, but he must try now. His heart went out to him. His humanity had surfaced, and Jim had to admit, it sat well on him.

“I’m sorry, Oswald…”

“No need. This wasn't your doing. Anyway, Jim - is there something else?”

Oswald had always been so good at reading him!

“I just wondered - is there anything I can do to help? Do you have any idea of who might have done this?”

Oswald gave a loud, harsh laugh. The bright, manic look returned to his fierce blue eyes.   
“Ha! You are perhaps having fun with me, Detective? Do I have any enemies, I think you were going to say next?”

Jim frowned and scratched his head. He played that one wrong.

“Well - what I meant was - anyone in particular?” he rasped, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

“I have my theories, Detective Gordon. But don't expect me to share them with you. I can deal with this in my own way.” Oswald glared meaningfully. It was clear what he meant.

“Oswald..please.. ..I just want to help….”

“And I am grateful, of course. But no, Jim. As I have said - I will deal with this. Now, if you have anything else to say, please do - if not, please leave us in peace.”

Then Oswald turned on his heel and went and regained his position on the chair at Miss Tula’s side. He picked up her hand again. “Sorry, dear,” he mouthed inaudibly, smiling down at her with tears in his eyes.

“OK, Oswald - have it your way. Just...well, don't do anything…” Jim stopped. There was no good way of finishing that sentence, so he didn’t.

“Well, anyway - if you should ever change your mind….let me know….”

“Yes, yes, Jim, now please, go!” Oswald gestured toward the door impatiently with his free hand, never looking back to show his face until he was sure Jim had left the room for good.


	32. The Penguin Professes Love and Swears Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald makes a declaration (unheard) and a promise (unwanted) to Taran.

**The Penguin Professes Love.**

“You were the only one who ever said I was beautiful.  Me. Beautiful! My mother – she said I was handsome – but then again, she  **was** my mother - right?  She would say that! But you – you never needed to tell me that.  You were not my flesh and blood – you were a stranger! You had nothing to gain from me – and everything to lose!

“You’ve stuck with me through thick and thin.  You’ve heard my worst confessions and seen the darkest part of my soul – and even joined me there, at the price of your own!  You are the only one who was ever prepared to make that sacrifice for me. Without fear, without intimidation! Just for love of me.

“No-one ever wanted or needed me but you.  Nobody needs Oswald Cobblepot – not in the way you did – the way you do now, little Taran, as I sit here looking down at you and wondering what I ever did to deserve all this.  To deserve you.

“This happened to you because of me.  I should have been there! It’s all my fault.  I have to tell you this now, just this once, as I never told you before, and hope that you will wake up and look at me in your sweet, non-judgemental way – the way  **no-one** else ever looked at me before.

“I love you, Taran Tula!   There, I said it – and you’ll probably never hear it, but I said it anyway!”

  
  


He had not thought to get her any flowers – he hadn’t had time, anyway!  He had dashed straight to the hospital and demanded to see her right away.

Ivy had promised to pick up some roses on her way back to the hospital  – albeit under protest, as she had pointed out, rather tactlessly, that the flowers were sure to die.   But one glance at his angry, agonised expression had told her to shut up and do as she was told. She had also determined to bring along some living plants as part of Taran’s ‘unofficial treatment’.  She knew that Oswald wouldn’t complain about that for too long. Anything to help heal his little friend would be welcomed. 

Oswald had been very grateful that Ivy had come home when she had done and performed her own brand of ‘ emergency first aid’  – which had doubtless helped save Taran’s life. 

He remembered that she had saved him all that time ago, and he had repaid her kindness with irritability and petulance.  But then again, that was just him, wasn’t it? He had always had a tetchy temperament. Ivy had clearly not minded, and had stuck around and continued to help him.  They had been two freaks with simpatico. Ivy had been the first person, besides his mother, ever to bother asking him, “Are you all right?” That had struck a chord with him.

She was a loyal soldier.  But Taran was so much more!  She had BECOME a freak – she had had no need to do that.  She was the one person who had been prepared to step over the line for him – time and time again.

“Taran,” he said, coming close to her and lowering his voice intimately, “I will get the ones who did this!  They are going to pay!”

“Oh, Ozzy,” she thought,  “Don’t speak of revenge - not here, not now!”  She squeezed his hand hard, hoping he would get the message.

“Ooh!  Sorry!”  Ivy exclaimed awkwardly.    She had brought the flowers - white roses, as he had requested.  Cut blooms waiting to die. She felt so sorry for them! But she felt even sorrier for Taran….and maybe, even, for him.  

And now, she had walked in on what was clearly a private moment - Oswald was holding Taran’s hand, and he was whispering something to her.  If she had known, she would have knocked first, or at least, cleared her throat, before entering.

Oswald flinched and spun round, his eyes flashing, but he kept hold of Taran’s hand.

“What do you want?!” he snapped petulantly.  

“Sorry - I was just bringing....the flowers.…”

Oswald spied the bunch of white roses protruding from Ivy’s shopping bag.

“Right.  Fine. Erm, sorry,” he conceded begrudgingly.    He passed his free hand through his wilting locks and distractedly stroked his unshaven chin.  He hung his head and sighed.

“That’s ok!  Anyway - I’m going to bring in some of my **special** **living** plants in a little while – to help with Taran’s  recovery,” Ivy continued, unable to keep some sarcasm from creeping into her tone.  

He raised his head and pursed up his lips, ready to snipe at her again, but Taran pressed his hand, tacitly reminding him what he owed the girl he was ready to chide.

He glanced at Taran briefly.  “Thank you,” he mouthed, and winked at her.  She squeezed his hand again.

“That’s very generous of you, Ivy,” he said, addressing Ivy with forced politeness.  “And….was there anything else?” he added pointedly.

“Erm….no.  Right, well, see you later then!”  Ivy said brightly. She placed the flowers carefully on the bed.  “Glad you’re awake now, Taran. He was so worried about you, y’know.  He.….”

“OK, off you go, then,” Oswald cut in abruptly, stretching his lips tighter.  Ivy took the hint and left.

Oswald was very aware of the therapeutic benefits of Ivy’s ‘plant pals’, having been brought back from the brink of death by the ‘green goddess’ and her little dream ‘green team’.  If this could do the same for Taran he couldn’t possibly object – of course. However, he was still trying to get over the shock of Miss Pepper’s sudden presence in the room, butting in on such a personal and tender moment. 

 

Later on, Ivy came in and was arranging all of her little miracle workers around the room, as she had promised.  Taran was sleeping but Oswald was refusing to leave her side.

He was exhausted but was too afraid to leave Taran unprotected.  He had expended all his human resources on seeking out the location of the assailants.

“Oswald - you need rest!  Go home and get some sleep.  I will stay with Taran.”

“I don’t need rest,” he said stubbornly.

“Oswald - you’re worn out.  You can barely keep your eyes open!”

“I can power nap in the chair.”  He folded his arms and pursed up his lips.

“ Oh - Ozzy!”

“I’m not leaving….”

“You need to be properly rested and refreshed!” she had persisted.  “Taran needs you to be strong, Oswald!” And she had given him a meaningful look, which he had understood perfectly well.

It took a while, but Taran started to get better, and to regain her speech.

The first thing she said to Oswald was “Hello gorgeous!”

She had just woken up.  He was so relieved and glad to see her open her eyes again and hear her finally speak again, greeting him so sweetly – especially after what she had been through, and all the pain she must still be suffering.

“Hello, Miss Tula,” he  said with a wide, dimpled smile.

He leaned forward and gave her a soft kiss on her forehead.

The sight of his smile and the feel of his mouth on her skin was joyous.  The pain seemed almost to start melting away at his touch. He was the best medicine of all.

“Can I get anything for you?” he asked tentatively.  “Do you need - painkillers, or anything?”

“No thank you – I am fine.  This thing here is helping,” she reassured him, nodding towards the morphine drip she was hooked up to.  

“Ah yes, of course.”  He cleared his throat awkwardly.  “Does it...does it hurt much?”

“Not as much as it did.  And...Ozzy, I just feel so much better for seeing you.”  She managed a little smile, although it was still painful for her.

He smiled back at her coyly.  

The nurse came in.  “Doctor’s rounds soon - visiting time is over.”

 

When Oswald went away, albeit under protest and after much reassurance from his friend, the doctor duly came to see Taran.  

He informed her, as tactfully as possible,  that her wounds would almost certainly leave indelible scars.  Taran had expected this, and responded to the news with apparent fortitude.  “I’m sure I won’t really notice the difference,” she had joked, in truth dreading the moment when the bandages would get removed and she would see her new, altered face.

“Erm -  there’s something else that we found when we examined you, Miss Tula,” the doctor began tentatively.

“Oh? What was that?”

“Well – Miss Tula – this is a delicate matter.  What exactly is your relationship to Mr Cobblepot?”

She was astounded at first.  How could it have happened?

Then she remembered.  The birthday outing - and his very generous gift.

It seemed that he had been far more generous than either of them had realised.  She didn’t know how she could be all that surprised, seeing as neither of them had bothered taking any precautions….but after all, it had been such a spontaneous act and in the middle of nowhere….

How on earth was she going to break this news to Oswald?  And how the hell was he going to take it when she did?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	33. Domestic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taran returns home

**Domestic**

 

“You’re welcome,” he’d said.

 

Sarcasm was lost on them, it seemed.  He had saved all their lives - Bruce’s, Alfred’s AND Jim’s -  while ridding Gotham of a REAL monster and taking sweet, terrible,  FINAL revenge for his mother’s death. And yet….nothing. But never mind.  He had done what he’d gone there to do.

 

He had blasted - or rather, had got Butch to blast - Azrael to kingdom come with his big flame thrower.

 

“See you in hell, Theo,” he had announced grandly, shortly before Butch had aimed true and fired.

 

The look on Azrael’s face in the moment when he had realised his fate had been priceless!

 

Galavan gone.

 

Azrael annihilated.

 

Now, that’s what he called a very satisfying night’s work!  He remembered it so well. He grinned a big dimpled grin of satisfaction.

 

He must share this again with Taran, and soon.  He was sure it would cheer her up in one of her darker moments - that anecdote always made her smile.

 

She had not been herself lately.  She seemed to be having lots of off moods, which was not like her at all.  No wonder, he supposed, after what she had been through. Still, at last she was back home now, where she belonged….

 

He had made sure that a panic room had been installed in the mansion,  just for more peace of mind. He had wanted to send her to a safe house at first, but she had insisted that she come straight home.  He wondered how she would react on returning to the place where she had been tortured so mercilessly - even though he had made sure that the perpetrators would never try it again, and even though he had had the place cleaned so many times he was surprised he hadn’t made a hole in the floorboards.  Even he thought he could still smell the evil odour of violence, and it still turned his stomach to think of it - ironic, really, as he had perpetrated so many violent and murderous acts himself in the past and still continued to do so.

 

But it was never torture for torture’s sake.  He didn’t take delight in killing and inflicting suffering (except of course in Galavan’s case, where he felt he richly deserved it).  It was generally just a means to an end with him. These people - these monsters - had taken such pleasure in inflicting physical and mental torment on Taran, just because they could.  His blood boiled in his veins as he thought about it.

 

But give her her due, she had seemed so happy to be home, much to his relief.  She must be made of sterner stuff than he had thought. She had given him a heartfelt hug as she had crossed the threshold and held him tightly, sighing with contentment as he had quickly reciprocated.  She had said nothing, but had just stood there breathing hard and fast in his arms, tacitly telling him how glad she was to be back with him again. He hadn’t spoken either, but had just rubbed her back in a comforting way.

 

He wondered if they would ever really get back to normal….well, whatever passed for ‘normal’ for them, anyway….

 

He needed to make sure she would stay.  He had never admitted it to her out loud, but he knew he would be lost without her.  Maybe, one day, he would open his lips and reveal this thought to her….

 

There were some days when she had said that she felt unwell – ‘off colour’, as she had put it – and had slept in late and been unable to come to work.  He had offered to send for a doctor, but she wouldn’t hear of it. “This is nothing serious!” she had assured him impatiently. “I will be fine. I am just tired, that’s all.”

 

“Well, if you are feeling the strain….you know - if you want to take a little time off, I can arrange….”

 

“No, no, Ozzy, as I just told you -  I am perfectly all right. This is nothing.   It will pass,” she would reply dismissively.

 

It certainly made a change for  **him** to be fretting over  **her –** and for him to be getting the offhand or tetchy treatment in return.  This was such a dramatic role reversal. But he was genuinely concerned about her.  

 

He had never known her to be sick or out of sorts, or so short-tempered before  - she had always been exceptionally strong and healthy, and good-humoured too, as long as he had known her.  She had always made sure to look after herself - as well as to look out for him. But now she seemed pale and wan and lacking in energy or motivation….definitely not her usual self….  

 

He just didn’t know what to do or say – he felt helpless and powerless, and he always hated feeling that way.

 

The shock of what had happened to her....the trauma....of course, he reminded himself, that must be the reason for all this.  She hadn’t said anything about her scars and how she felt about the way she looked. He didn’t care, of course - he had never minded what anyone looked like.  He had experienced such bullying over his appearance at school and he always felt some sympathy with others in his predicament. If anything, he thought that her new face was more beautiful than the old one, and longed to tell her that, but couldn’t heave the words into his mouth.  But he wondered how much she had been affected by what those thugs had done to her face, especially when the bandages had come off and she had looked at her altered reflection in the mirror for the first time. 

 

He had to think of a way to cheer her up and to help her to heal, without offering to send her away, which always elicited a negative response.  He would have to ask Ivy what could be done - she was a woman, after all, and would know much more than he did about these things….female mood swings were something he was very bad at knowing how to handle, although he knew that Taran was very adept at coping with his own  little temper tantrums when he had happened to give them out. He could dish it out but he couldn’t quite take it!

 

He knew that Taran’s experience had affected her profoundly because Ed Nygma’s recent inconvenient liberation from  his icy prison and his troublesome activities drew no interest from her. Ed had become very bothersome since he had been released so inconveniently by that ‘female Riddler’ character.  He knew that Taran would previously have insisted on taking part in any plan for dealing with the miscreant - given her deeply ingrained, pathological hatred of The Riddler. She would have wanted to be there at the death,  most likely literally as well as metaphorically. But he really hadn’t wanted her there. He hadn’t wanted those two to meet. He feared her losing control, and that was something he really couldn’t afford to have her do.

 

Although he was glad that she had shown no interest in his scheme for revenge, he felt sorry that even this wouldn’t induce her to come out of her doldrums.

 

So he determined to take Ivy aside at the next available opportunity and get her to tell him what strategy was needed.

 

He would get to the bottom of this if it was the last thing he did….

 

 

 

 

 

 


	34. Taran, Tantrums and Tiaras

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a very short chapter about Oswald's own little strategy for dealing with Taran's bad temper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to ladyspock7 for this idea

**Taran, Tantrums and Tiaras.**

 

One morning, Oswald risked making a little quip about her bad temper. She had just snapped at him and then had that sad, rueful look on her face which told him that she hadn’t meant to bite his head off.

“Miss Tula, there is only room for one drama queen in this household,” he said with exaggerated primness. “And that, my dear, is me!”

And he pursed up his lips in a comical way, hoping that she would get a raise out of it. And she did.

She collapsed into fits of giggles, her icecap melting. She came to him and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him on his forehead emphatically. “I so love you, Cobblepot!” she said.


	35. Breakout and Heartbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taran is forced to leave Oswald, but not before giving him a final gift.

**Breakout and Heartbreak.**

It had to be done.

She would have to do it soon, before her symptoms became too unpleasant -  and before her secret showed itself to him.  She knew that if that happened he would never let her go - and anyway, if she left it much longer, she would be incapable of getting away.

It was too risky to stay - and anyway, how would he cope with her in such a state?  She could barely stand the thought of it herself.  Even though a part of her felt delighted to be expecting HIS child, for the most part she wasn’t relishing the experience of carrying that burden.  She had never really seen herself as a mother.

But she would have to go through this, and do it alone.  Money would be no problem, of course, at least for a while - but there would be no moral support.  It would be so damn hard!  But she saw no other way….

To cheer herself up, she visualised having a son who was the image of his father, or if not, a  daughter who she would definitely have to name Gertrude after her grandma!  Both of those thoughts never failed to put a smile on her face, before she came back to earth with a bump and realised the seriousness of her predicament.

She hoped that she would be able to come back to Gotham, and back home to Oswald, although she didn’t have a clue when that might happen.  The thought of being away from Ozzy at all, let alone a long period of time,  tore at her heart - but she had to be strong and put aside her own selfish desires.

She couldn’t be assured of the safety of their child, who would surely be a target for Oswald’s enemies.  It could also make her little gangster’s position in the criminal community very vulnerable.  She wanted him to know he had an heir, but she also needed to break this news to him at the appropriate time, which she was sure wouldn’t be any time soon.

So she regretfully put her plan into action.

At the appointed time, she packed her belongings and ordered the cab to turn up at the end of the driveway - where it wouldn’t be seen or heard from the house.

Ivy had a stash of herbal ‘remedies’ which Taran had taken advantage of.  She had asked Ivy for her most soporific potion, saying she needed it to help her sleep now she suffered from nightmares and insomnia after her ordeal.   This was true, but she didn’t want the remedy for her own personal use.  Ivy had assured her that it was safe, and there should be no major side effects, although she warned Taran not to plan to do anything too mentally or physically taxing the morning after taking it as it could cause drowsiness.

Taran wanted to ask if the medicine was safe to use in pregnancy, so that she might test it out on herself - but of course, she couldn’t.  The last thing she wanted to do was tell Ivy about her condition.  Ivy would blurt out her secret at the drop of a hat; she was a kind and loyal friend but discretion, along with clear thinking, was not one of her finer points.

And so she had kept the little vial of magic liquid to add to Oswald’s favourite bedtime tea.  Ivy had told her that it was fairly fast-acting, so Taran knew that she shouldn’t have to wait too long for it to take effect on her unsuspecting little Cobblepot.

She really hated deceiving him like this, but she felt she had no choice.  

That evening, as she sat by the fire with her companion for the last time, she made the most of being with him and was careful to curb her temper, because the last thing she wanted was to part with him on bad terms.  She wanted her memories to be happy, as they might have to last her a very long time.

He had had a really rough day - she had seen that in his eyes before he had said a word about what had happened to him.  He told her that had been forced to do some very unpleasant things which had taken their toll on him.  

He didn’t share the gory details with her.   He had got into the habit of telling her everything as they had got to know each other better, and when he was assured of her loyalty - but since her ordeal he had been much more circumspect about what he chose to share with her.

And then his bad leg had started playing up.  He winced and clamped his hand to his knee, then rubbed his leg emphatically, which was a clear indication that it was giving him a lot of grief.

“Oswald, dear - is your leg troubling you again?” she enquired, rather unnecessarily.

He smiled stiffly and bit his lip.    “Erm, yes, it is….a little….it’s just the cold.”

He hated making a fuss about it as a rule, but sometimes it hurt so badly that he just couldn’t hide the way he felt.  

“Let me rub it for you,” she offered eagerly.

“Erm, no, Taran, really….you don’t need to do that....” he protested, continuing to squirm awkwardly in his seat.

“Oh, Oswald.  We’ve been through all this before, haven’t we?” she interjected,  gently scolding him.  “You’re clearly in a lot of pain, dear.  You know a good massage always makes it feel better, right?”  She smiled at him with encouragement.

_ A little time ago, she had managed to persuade him to allow her to lay her hands on his lame leg, and although at first his reaction had been reluctant, even petulant, she had worn down his resistance. _

_ “After all, we do..well, know each other much better now, don’t we?”  she had pointed out tentatively.  This was after the one and only time they had been intimate _

_ And so, he had eventually agreed to her suggestion.   He had sat gripping the arms of his chair and holding his breath,  like a cat on hot bricks, as she had unfastened and slowly pulled off his shoe.   _

_ She had taken his foot in her hands and looked up at him respectfully.  He had stared down at her fearfully, his hands clenched into fists, and his fine shoulders hunched up tightly with the extremity of his tension. _

_ “It’s alright, dear.  You know I’ll be careful, don’t you?  You know I won’t hurt you,”  she had reassured him.  He had nodded slowly and the semblance of a smile had begun to appear on his frightened face. _

_ Then she had pulled down his sock and laid her hands on him, touching his bare leg with the utmost care.  The skin on his injured ankle and calf was still red and inflamed where Fish had beaten him so mercilessly with the baseball bat.  It had made her heart turn over and her stomach lurch to think of what that woman had done to him. _

_ He would always suffer pain - sometimes intense, like on these occasions - because of Fish’s  brutality,  every waking moment for the rest of his days.  In all likelihood,  he would develop arthritis due to the extent of his injuries, which had never been given the medical attention they needed and which had therefore never had chance to heal. _

_ She failed to understand why Oswald had forgiven Fish for all the wrong she had done him.  They must have had a special kind of bond for him to have reconciled with her, if only on her dying day.   _

_ Taran knew that she had achieved an understanding with Oswald too, but she still wondered if he would be quite so forgiving towards her for abandoning him as he had been towards Fish for hobbling him.  She could only hope so.   _

She managed to persuade him to have his massage in bed, so that he could be more relaxed and comfortable.  “And it will help you go to sleep too, Ozzy dear,” she had reassured him, “And I could make your special night-time tea, if you want.  Would you like that?”

He had sighed and then grinned gratefully, his eyes shining and his dimples growing.  “Yes, I would.  I would love that, actually.  Thank you, Taran.” 

She swallowed down the lump in her throat.  The beauty of his smile always took her breath away.  She committed the sight of it to memory - just in case she never got to witness it again.

Oswald was patient and trusting towards her these days.   They had come so far….and yet now, she had to deceive him, abandon him, and go far away…. 

She hoped fervently that the brief but heartfelt note she was leaving for him would help to counteract his hurt and anger in some way.

He had got undressed and then got into bed before calling her to enter.

She had carefully exposed his injured leg, whilst leaving everything else covered up, as he had requested.

She always respected his modesty, even since they had been intimate.  They had both been unclothed on that occasion, but they had been under a blanket the whole time.  His bashfulness touched her heart - he was so old-fashioned and well-mannered, such a gentleman in so many ways.  Of course, he was a villain, not a saint, and he committed violent acts - but he also had a moral code of sorts that he stuck to, which was more than could be said for many other members of the criminal contingent with whom he had dealings.

He was a ruthless criminal with a terrible temper, but he also had a great capacity for love.  She had sensed that from the first day she had met him.  There was something about his eyes;  something she couldn’t quite pinpoint, but she had known that it was there all the same.

She had been lucky enough to encounter the more gentle, generous side of his nature - most probably because she had treated him with love and respect without asking for any of it back.  He had then willingly returned it to her - with interest - and she appreciated that more than he would ever know.

She swept her hands tenderly over his bent and broken limb, applying soft, gentle pressure.  She felt him start to relax a little, and then sigh contentedly and give appreciative little sounds as he began to enjoy his treatment.  

“That does feel nice, Taran,” he said drowsily.  “You are so good to me!” 

“See?  I told you it would help, Oswald,” she replied happily.

“Mmmm,” he replied simply, smiling softly.

The drugged tea, which he had finished off just before he’d come to bed, was clearly starting to take effect along with the work of her tender, loving hands.

She hummed soothingly as she ministered to him, and he sighed and closed his eyes - he murmured something incomprehensible.  The effect of the tea was taking hold now, along with her therapeutic actions, and it wouldn't be too long before he slipped into unconsciousness. 

She wondered if anyone else would get this close to him after she was gone.  He needed love more than ever now and she was taking hers away, if only temporarily.  Part of her hoped that he would find it in his heart to trust another person this much, if at all,  after she had ‘run out’ on him.  However, part of her felt jealous to think of anyone else being allowed to get this intimate with him.   She loved him very selfishly, and he knew that….

She would miss her sweet Cobblepot….miss the way his bright eyes flashed like blue fire when he was angry ….the way they glistened like glass when he was sad….and the way they sparkled like sapphires when he was being mischievous or playful.  

She would miss everything about him….but especially those beautiful eyes.

As if he had read her mind, his eyes suddenly opened.  She was treated to a quick flash of sky blue before he began to blink heavily.   He was cleary fighting sleep, but losing the battle rapidly.  

It was as if his thick, dark lashes were heavy lead weights dragging down his defenceless eyelids.  His azure irises were soon completely hidden from view.

“Oswald....Oswald….dear.   Can  you hear me?” she called, shaking him very gently by the shoulder -  just to make sure he had completely lost consciousness.  He didn’t respond, but just kept on sleeping, his breathing slow and deep. 

The deed was done.

Taran carefully pulled the covers back over his leg.  She made sure he was warmly wrapped up in the sheets, tucking him in snuggly for the last time. 

She sat alongside him on the bed for a moment.  He looked happy and at peace.  She gazed down at his long raven lashes and the quiet little smile that had formed on his lovely face.  

He looked like a sweet, serene dark angel….or even a child without a care in the world.

She would have to remember this too.   

She stroked back his soft, spiked black fringe, then stooped down and kissed him on his forehead tenderly.

“Please forgive me, little Cobblepot,” she whispered, her eyes filling up with tears.

She stood up slowly, turned and walked away.  Her heavy heart almost made her stop, make an about-turn, and go back to the bed;  to slide inside, hold him and never let him go.    But her mind propelled her forward and she kept on walking.   She didn’t dare look back.  


	36. Oswald Gets a Wake-Up Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald wakes to find Taran gone

 

**Oswald Gets a Wake-Up Call.**

 

Oswald woke up to a ringing bedside phone.  His head was heavy and full of fuzz. He cursed and fumbled for and snatched up the receiver.

 

“What?” he grouched into the mouthpiece in a petulant slur.

 

“Boss,” came Gabe’s voice at the other end. “What’s up?”

 

“What do you mean, what’s up?  I’m in bed, that’s what’s up!” Oswald snapped, then he winced.  His head was throbbing and his mouth was as dry as a bone.

 

“We’ve been waitin nearly an hour!  Boss, they’re wonderin why you’re so late….”

 

Oswald turned over slowly and looked at his bedside clock.

 

Eleven o’clock!

 

“Wha-at?  How can it be….?!” he thought.

 

“Erm...tell them I’ll be right there, Gabe.  Make my apologies.”

 

“OK boss, but they’re not happy…” began Gabe.

 

“Look, just make an excuse, will you?!” Oswald slammed down the receiver, then flinched as the noise it made reverberated inside his sensitive, tender head.

 

Why had no-one woken him?  Why hadn’t TARAN woken him?

 

Where was she?

 

She would normally have roused him, not let him sleep in like this - especially as he had an important appointment to keep today.  She had known that.

 

That’s why she had made sure to get him to sleep early - right?

 

He felt so groggy, his eyes and his legs felt like lead.  This almost resembled a hangover, but he hadn’t touched a single drop of wine last night.  He’d only had his usual bedtime tea. Taran had made it especially for him, as she often did.

 

He was disorientated.  He squinted as the late morning sun shone through the chink in the heavy curtains, the harsh rays piercing his photophobic eyes like thin shards of glass.

 

He had to get out of bed.  He had to get ready. He needed to follow up on yesterday’s disastrous rendezvous.

 

But….where was his little friend?  She always helped him prepare, always had his clothes ready cleaned and pressed.

 

She always made sure he looked his best before he faced the new day - every day.

  
  


They had shared such a wonderful evening.  She had even given him a leg rub. That had made such a difference, easing the pain in his leg so much.  She had made him relax..and soon fall sleep. Last night, he had felt better than he had in a long time.

 

He had almost expected to wake up and find her sleeping next to him, as she often liked to  climb in beside him for companionship and cuddles. He never minded, they had set out their boundaries a long time ago - except for that special occasion, which had been, of course,  a one-off….

 

And then he might  wake up to find her still there beside him, maybe holding him in her caring way - or, more often than not, sitting perched on the edge of the bed with a cup of coffee for him, ruffling up his hair and saying, “Wake up, sleepy head.  You’ve got a busy day ahead of you.”

 

His headache seemed to be worsening.   He knew he had to get washed and dressed.  But where was Taran? He had to find her first.

 

He seemed unable to move quickly.  He was a lame land animal, but he usually managed to hobble around pretty quickly, defying his leg discomfort.  But this morning, he felt like he was waddling through thick peanut butter without a spoon!

 

He needed water.

 

He made it over to his bedroom sink and ran the faucet, sloshing water into his mouth and splashing more of it over his face.  He gripped the side of the basin tightly, his head drooping forward like a heavy wilting bloom. He closed his eyes and sighed.

 

Then the phone started ringing again.

 

He cursed.  It must be Gabe calling back.  He responded to the shrill, annoying din by putting his hands over his ears and keeping them there until the ringing sound stopped.  Gabe could damn well wait, the moron!

 

He needed to get dressed.  He just realised that he was in fact almost naked, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. He had gone to bed barely clad because of getting his massage from Miss Tula - from Taran.   He couldn’t possibly present himself to her in this way, no matter how ticked off he was at her. And besides - it wouldn’t be the most dignified way to chide her. He would feel exposed as well as nearly nude, and that just would not do.

 

He hobbled over to the wardrobe and fished out his dressing-gown. 

 

Once he was decently robed, he made his way out into the hall and limped along to her room.

 

He tried knocking and calling to her several times, but she didn’t answer.  He was still reluctant to go in.

 

He knew it was foolish, but he had always respected her need for privacy, for her own space.  He had invaded the privacy of countless others, even snooping and rifling through their stuff,  but she was different, somehow. She had broken his house rules only once, and that was just because she had been so fond of that fur-lined coat!  He smiled now to think of the big deal he had made out of that. She had blurted out how handsome she thought he looked in it! He had actually been quite touched and flattered that she had been so sincere about her feelings but he had felt duty bound to keep his emotions on the subject hidden from her.

 

And then she had confessed that she was in love with him.  Once the shock had worn off and he had realised that she was serious,  he had to admit what he was. And her response? That she loved him even more!

 

She knew she had no chance of romance with him, and  yet, she had still stayed. It seemed that he just couldn’t do anything wrong where she was concerned.

 

But now - this morning, in the cold light of day, he had to ask himself - where the hell was she?!

 

Eventually, he opened the door, which he found to be unlocked, and tentatively went in.

 

Everything in there looked neat and tidy.  The bedclothes were undisturbed.

 

There was no sound of running or splashing water coming from her bathroom.

 

He started to feel a tad concerned.  

 

He had to find her.

 

He hobbled heavily into the living room, still feeling a little  off balance. He wobbled all over the place. He kept calling her but she didn’t appear.

 

Then he stopped in his tracks as he spied a white envelope standing on the mantelpiece over the fireplace with her writing on.  He would recognise that spidery scrawl anywhere! 

 

He stood there for a few moments, just staring at that envelope.  

 

Maybe she had just written it to tell him that she had been called away somewhere, perhaps to run an errand?    But then why leave a note, why not wake him and tell him to his face?

 

A tingling sensation started to make its way up his spine to the back of his neck.  His heart started to beat faster.

 

He limped up closer.  He saw that the writing said ‘Ozzy’ and it was definitely in Taran’s scrawly script.  Hers wasn’t the easiest handwriting to read, he knew that. He had often teased her about it and she had taken this in good humour.

 

That was why she typed out most of the letters and documents and rarely wrote anything by hand.   

 

So this must be a very personal and important piece of correspondence.

 

He came out in a cold sweat.

 

He reached up and took down the envelope and held it in his hands for a few seconds.  Instinctively, he put the envelope to his nose and sniffed. He knew it! He could smell  her perfume - Calvin Klein’s Beauty. 

 

She knew that he liked this scent on her.  He had remarked on it more than once. 

 

He opened up the envelope, pulling out a single sheet of white writing paper.  Then he began to read.

 

‘Dear Ozzy,’   he read,

  
  


‘By the time you read this I’ll be gone.  I have to leave here and go far away.

 

I’m sorry to leave you but I had no choice.  I can’t tell you why.

 

Please don’t try to find me.  You won’t succeed. 

 

I will miss you very much, dear.  You know I love you. And I’m so sorry about the cliches, but they all ring true.

 

Goodbye for now…..

 

Taran xx

 

_ Always your loyal soldier. _

 

P.S. I used some of Ivy’s sleeping potion in your bedtime tea.  She thought it was for me - I lied to her. So please don’t punish her, she played no part in my devious plans.  

 

P.P.S. I’m crying now.  I can’t help it. My heart is breaking, sweet Cobblepot  x ‘

 

The last kiss she had written had a splash mark on it, as if a single tear had fallen on it just after she had penned it.

 

Oswald stared at the words desperately trying to take them in.

 

He read them again, and again.    And again. They just didn’t seem to sink in.

 

This wasn’t real.  It couldn’t be happening. She would never leave him!

 

She couldn’t leave him!  She had told him that so many times. She loved him too much….

 

This had to be some sort of bad joke -surely.  But no, she wouldn’t be so cruel as to jest about something like this….

 

His fuzzy, aching head suddenly cleared as the words ‘potion’ and ‘tea’  jumped out at him dramatically from the clean white page.

 

The tea!  Of course.  His favourite bedtime tea, which she had made for him.  The way she had tended to him so sweetly, and how fast he had fallen into slumber….

 

It dawned on him that this letter was deadly in earnest, and that she had tricked him.  She really had left him.

 

He suddenly felt sick. He started to feel extreme panic.  His heart fibrillated violently and his hands began to shake.

 

“But..but she can’t do this to me…...how  **could** she do this to me?!”

 

He tried to find a reason.  He had to make sense of it!

 

“Of course.  She can’t be in her right mind…  That’s it! It’s the shock, her ordeal, she doesn’t know what she’s doing…..”  He hung onto this thought like a blind man grabbing at straws.

 

“I have to find her!  I have to stop her! I have to bring her back home!  But how?” He paced the floor like a caged animal, desperately trying to think what to do.

 

“Yes, Gabe - I must call Gabe - get him on his mobile.  To hell with the meeting! That doesn’t matter now. He has to help me get her back….And Ivy..yes, Ivy….she has to help me too….”

  
  
  
  



	37. A Friend in Need - Oswald Seeks a Favour from his Favourite Police Detective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald seeks help from his favourite police detective in his search for Taran. Oswald and Jim's latent feelings for one another threaten to manifest themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the final chapter in this part of the series, but Taran's story will emerge again in 'Oswald Takes the Bullet and Jim Bites It' - Part 3 of the series.

 

**A Friend in Need - Oswald Seeks a Favour from his Favourite Police Detective**

 

Jim’s heart missed a beat when Oswald turned up to the GCPD expressly to see him.  His old acquaintance had been waiting for some time, as Jim and Harvey had both been involved in a briefing with Barnes about an important case that the GCPD was currently investigating.  Jim was surprised that Oswald had been so patient!

 

The little gangster looked exceptionally neat and dapper today - he had clearly made an extra effort with his appearance.  He was always impeccably dressed and well-groomed, but he had gone the extra mile on this occasion. His raven hair was spiked up on his crown in his trademark ‘disco vamp’ style, but his fringe had a softness about it - cascading onto his pale forehead in neat glossy strands.  He was wearing that exquisite purple silk waistcoat and the blue brocade tie that brought out the colour of his eyes. His black patent shoes had evidently been polished so hard that they shone like glass.

 

Jim took all this in with a quick, subtle glance at the figure standing before him.  He was used to observing such details about people - he was a detective, after all.

 

However, one look at Oswald’s face told Jim that the little mobster’s mental condition was far from being in good order.  

 

His big blue eyes had lost their brilliance and animation.  There were dark shadows underneath them and the whites were bloodshot - the tell-tale signs of excessive drinking and sleep deprivation.

 

Some terrible trauma or tragedy must have befallen him to leave him in such a state. He wondered - with a jolt in his heart - what had gone wrong.

 

Oswald’s air of muted sadness and humility both alarmed and disarmed Jim.   They made Jim feel things for Oswald that he hadn’t felt for him in a while.  He felt something more than sympathy, .an unexplained emotion which he had found himself fighting when they’d been....well, fighting…. 

 

The last time he had seen Oswald like this was when his mother had just been murdered by the Galavans.  He remembered the little villain’s crushed expression and the angry sob in his voice as he had spat out the words, “He killed my mother, Jim!” 

 

That had produced deep and profound feelings  in Jim that he’d found hard to deny. He’d never voiced them to Oswald - or to anyone else, of course.  He had tried so hard to repress them and keep them down deep within his soul, where he felt they belonged.

 

He recalled the time when he had abandoned Oswald in Arkham.  That had not been his finest hour! He had crossed paths with Oswald, who had pleaded with  him for help - his eyes black and tormented - all to no avail. 

 

Jim’s repressed feelings had threatened to surface again, but he had hardened his heart and beaten them down again - just as Oswald had been beaten down and abused, yet again.  Jim’s instincts of self-preservation had taken over, and he was secretly ashamed of himself for turning his back on his friend in such a cowardly way. Taran had made him see that, made him face the truth of what damage he had actually done to Oswald by doing nothing.

 

And now, here he was again - little Cobblepot - coming to him with a broken heart and looking at him with such a wounded, crestfallen expression.  Jim wondered whether he could do anything for him this time. He hoped that he could….for a change….

 

Oswald tearfully informed Jim that Taran had ‘gone missing’’ and he was ‘deeply concerned’ about her.

 

“She’s sick, Jim - she’s not in her right mind!  She’s vulnerable. We have to find her!” Oswald’s tone of voice was tremulous and bordering on hysterical.

 

“I’m sorry to hear that, Oswald. Have you got any idea about where she might have gone?”  Jim said levelly. He felt very sorry for him, but didn’t want to give this away and wind up Oswald even further.

 

“Well, no, Jim - that’s why I came to you - of course.  But she did...well, she did leave me this note. Maybe that might give you some leads?”

 

Oswald held out the small folded sheet of paper.  Jim saw that his hand was shaking.

 

He frowned,  but reached out and carefully took the letter.  Inside, his heart turned over.

 

“Thanks,” he rasped.  He paused awkwardly for a second. 

 

“Go on, Jim - read it -  please,” Oswald urged, his eyes wide with desperate hope.  “I know it’s private, but I really don’t mind if  **you** read it.”

 

“OK, OK, Oswald,” Jim said placatingly.  “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

 

So he opened up the letter and started to read.

 

Dear Ozzy,     he read, 

  
  


By the time you read this I’ll be gone.  I have to leave here and go far away.

 

I’m sorry to leave you but I had no choice.  I can’t tell you why.

 

Please don’t try to find me.  You won’t succeed.

 

I will miss you very much, dear.  You know I love you.

 

_ J _ _ im looked up briefly at Oswald’s anxious face before carrying on - he couldn't help himself. _

 

And I’m so sorry about the cliches, but they all ring true.

 

Goodbye for now…..

 

Taran xx  

 

_ Always your loyal soldier.   _

 

_ Jim swallowed hard.  ‘Always your loyal soldier.’  Was this a subtle dig at him? Had she known that Oswald would show this letter to him? _

 

P.S. I used some of Ivy’s sleeping potion in your bedtime tea.  She thought it was for me - I lied to her. So please don’t punish her, she played no part in my devious plans.  

 

P.P.S. I’m crying now.  I can’t help it. My heart is breaking, sweet Cobblepot x

 

Jim felt highly conflicted.  He felt bad for Oswald, as this was a very personal note and it must have taken a lot of courage for him to share it.  The tear stain at the end was the clincher - that really got to him. The woman’s heart evidently had been breaking. Why then had she left him?

 

Oswald was clearly in genuine need of help.  And Jim really wanted to answer his plea.

 

But he also knew that his hands were tied.

 

“She can’t really actually be missing, can she, Oswald?  Not if she left this note.” Jim’s manner was tense and strained.   The GCPD was under great stress with the recent sharp rise in the crime rate, and this matter just wasn’t going to get priority.

 

“Yes she is - please, Jim, you must understand!  She’s confused. She’s not been herself since….well, you know….She’s….well, sick.   Surely you can see that in her note. Read between the lines, Jim. Please!”

 

“But Oswald...if she really wanted to go, if she went of her own free will - then there’s nothing you or I can do, is there?”  Jim spoke to Oswald slowly as he would to a confused child.

 

“Yes, there is!  Please, Jim,” Oswald persevered.  “You have to help me! You are my best - my only hope.  I keep telling you - she’s not in her right mind. After...after what they did to her, she can’t know what she’s doing!  She belongs at home - with me….where I can protect her, Jim….”

 

He clasped his hands tightly around his cane, leaning forward on it towards Jim and staring up at him plaintively.  

 

He really wanted to scream and yell at Jim, throw something at him, even hit him hard,  just to elicit the desired response. But for some reason, he didn’t want to risk upsetting him or hurting him.  He wasn’t really that fond of doing so at the best of times…. and this was the worst of times, after all….

 

_ Ivy had said to him, “Come on, Ozzy - you need to go and see Jim Gordon.  You know you have to!” _

 

_ He had snapped at Ivy in his inimitable fashion, telling her in no uncertain terms to go away and leave him alone in his despondency.  But she had persisted and worn his tetchy protests down. _

 

_ “You know you have to, Ozzy.  You have to ask for his help! He owes you, remember!  Go and take a bath and do your hair - you know, that vampy look that you do really well - and put on your smartest suit.  Make an effort for him. He’ll appreciate that.” _

 

_ “He will?” _

 

_ “Of course he will,  Ozzy. You know he will!  Make sure you wear the purple waistcoat and the blue brocade tie.” _

 

_ “Why?” _

 

_ “Don’t ask, Ozzy.   Just do it - for Taran - please….” _

 

Jim's deep blue eyes seemed to be searching his with something almost like concern.  Oswald held his breath and steadfastly focussed on Jim’s gaze. The silence was deafening and the seconds seemed like hours as he waited for Jim’s response.  He daren’t even blink.

 

“Ok, ok,” Jim finally conceded, with a sigh of surrender.  “I’ll see what I can do.” He looked away from Oswald and scratched behind his ear distractedly.

 

“Oh!  Thank you, Jim, old friend, thank you so much!”  Oswald nodded vigorously and beamed at Jim with tears of gratitude in his huge sapphire eyes.

 

_ Oswald had hoped that he would be consulting Jim about a very different matter;  an issue that might just turn those dark blue irises to black. He had so wanted to confess his true feelings.  But now was not the right time. He wondered if it really ever would be….. _

 

_ Ivy must know how he felt about Jim, and maybe she had an inkling that Jim might harbour similar feelings for him.  Otherwise, why would she have made a point of suggesting that he wear the purple silk and the blue brocade tie? _

 

He hobbled forward a couple of steps.  He was now just a hair’s breadth away from his favourite police detective - near enough to feel the heat of his body and smell his rich, spicy scent.  He closed his eyes for a brief moment and deeply inhaled the gorgeous aroma of Jim’s cologne . Then he opened his eyes again and prepared to seal the deal.

 

“Jim, this is so good of you!”  he exclaimed earnestly, staring intensely at Jim with his piercing azure eyes.     “Any favour you want in return - anything at all - just name it, and it’s yours!”

 

Jim huffed and rolled his eyes with mock exasperation.  Then the semblance of a smile appeared on his face and he said something so unexpected that it nearly knocked Oswald off his shinily-shod feet.

 

“Friends don’t owe friends - remember?” he rasped, taking Oswald by surprise by  quoting his own words back to him. His impenetrable deep blue gaze softened - just a little.  

 

Oswald swallowed hard.  His heart began to race.  He was on the cusp of moving right up close to Jim….reaching out to him…. and maybe even taking the risk of embracing him and admitting once and for all what he truly felt….

 

But in the next instant,  Jim frowned and moved back a couple of paces.  He wiped his hand across his mouth and cleared his throat awkwardly.

 

“Well, anyway, Oswald - I need to get on…...I’ll let you know if I find anything out,” he resumed in his usual stern,  gritty tone.

 

The spell was broken.  Oswald’s moment had passed and his courage had failed him - yet again.  His heart sank like a stone.

 

He bowed stiffly.   “Of course. I expect you are very busy, Detective Gordon.   Thank you for seeing me,” he replied, with his polite tight-lipped smile.  “I shall wait for your call.”

 

He turned away, feeling upset and deflated, and limped off towards the door.

 

Once Oswald had left, Jim went and flopped down heavily onto his chair.  He gave a long drawn out sigh and pressed his hands to his temples wearily.

 

Oswald had been so close….almost within touching distance.  That look he had given him...the hurt in his eyes...it had torn at his heart.  He had almost been tempted to reach out to him - to touch his arm reassuringly, even give him a manly hug,  to give him some measure of comfort. But he couldn’t afford to weaken...that just wouldn’t do.

 

Jim knew that Taran hated him - she had made no secret about that - but he had felt genuinely remorseful about what had happened to her.  It had been awful, and Oswald had been devastated. That man was damaged, physically and emotionally, and despite their differences he felt a change in the rhythm of his heart whenever he happened to think about it, and whenever he saw that look of scared vulnerability in Oswald’s eyes - like the one that he’d just given him….

 

He wondered how long Oswald could go on taking knocks like this. He may be a villain, and he may be remarkably resilient, but he was also a human with a heart and soul.  It was a heart and soul that could be affected by emotion, that could be subjected to and hurt by love, he just knew it. He was sure that there was a limit to how much abuse and heartache even he could handle.   He was a person who was in deep distress and pain, and Jim really did want to help him.

 

But he couldn't afford to dwell on it.  He mustn’t get involved, no matter how much he really wanted to.  The bottom line was that he was a cop and he had a job to do - a duty to perform.  He would make some effort to trace Taran, and do his best to keep his promise to Oswald, but he didn’t hold out much hope of finding her.  The GCPD had stretched resources and Barnes would be highly unlikely to allow any of his officers to dedicate themselves to finding a woman who had taken the trouble to leave a goodbye note, and who therefore could not really be considered as missing.

 

“Poor, deluded little Cobblepot,” he thought.  “I hope he’s gonna be ok.”

  
  



End file.
